FBI agents and Grocery Shopping
by CelticFire32
Summary: An outsider's perspective of FBI agents doing their grocery shopping. And she thought her shift was going to be boring.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: **

**So this is my first Criminal Minds fic. I tried to keep characters in character but probably failed miserably. **

**Thanks for reading!**

Like any typical teenage girl, I hated my job.

Yes, I completely understand that this is stereotypical and overdramatic. The fundamentals of my job were all too clear to me (to make money, learn the value of hard work etc.). It was the fact that I had to work on a Saturday at nine o'clock in the freaking AM, on April Fool's day for crying out loud and be a _door greeter _for the next four hours.

There is no justice in life.

I wanted to kill my boss, except I couldn't for two main reasons. 1) he's my boss, and I think that murdering him may be considered mutiny and 2) he's also my uncle, and I didn't want to be directly responsible for breaking up my mum and Daniels relationship. Daniel is my step father, by the way, Harold (my boss) is his brother.

Awkward family dynamics.

I kinda get the feeling that Harold hired me out of obligation. I also feel that my accepting his job offer was also out of obligation.

Hence the reason why I have been trying to get fired from 'Grocery-Land' since day one.

As stated above, I have been unsuccessful in my attempts, which means that nine sharp on Saturday, April 1st, I was in my tacky blue apron, cheerfully greeting customers and wondering where I could get a nuclear bomb.

I hated my life.

* * *

It was around ten whenever the glass doors slide open revealing a young man clumsily maneuvering around with a pair of crutches. He was doing an odd shuffling routin, like an injured penguin. But the first thing I noticed was the hair.

Bam. Medieval warrior meets surfer. Past his chin. In waves. I was impressed. If I was a guy, mum would _freak_ if I kept my hair like that.

I wondered if he conditioned.

Anyways.

To add to his…er, unique look, he was wearing converse sneakers, a sweater vest (yes, a sweater vest) with a blue untucked collared shirt, which looked loose and baggy on his tall and unbelievably skinny frame. I had to admit, he was cute, despite being like, twenty five or something.

And don't forget the crutches.

Maybe it was an April Fool's day joke or a bet or something. You know, win a case of beer if you dress like…well I'm not really sure for the day.

However, I had a nagging feeling that he actually wore surfer hair and sweater vests voluntarily.

Right.

He hobbled in with an air of uncertainty towards Chasity, the other door greeter, who is a staunch Catholic and actually _enjoyed _work. We didn't get along well, to say the least.

"How _are _you today?" she gushed cheerfully. He gave her a weird look I was familiar with. Chasity was too happy for her own good. It scared people, myself included.

"Um…fine thanks. I'm wondering if there is any way I could get help with my groceries…" he trailed off awkwardly, trying to gesture towards his crutches while avoiding toppling over into a display. It was actually pretty funny.

"Of _course_!" Chasity exclaimed loudly, causing both the guy and me to jump. He grimaced, quickly changing his fascial expression to a pained smile.

"Gianna will help you; it's part of our Shopping Assistance Program!" she tried to summon me with her arms by waving them wildly around her head. All she accomplished was looking like she was trying to swat away mosquitoes. I was certain the guy was ready to sprint as fast as he could on crutches out the door.

I finally decided to intervene and pulled out a cart. He looked extremely relieved to get away from Chasity. She appeared…_disappointed_?

Uh oh.

"Thanks," he sighed as we walked away "I would probably wind up in the hospital if I tried to push a cart and use crutches at the same time. Actually 32% of injuries occur due to a primary injury. For example, breaking a wrist while using crutches for a broken leg."

I blinked, my eyebrows raised. He coughed once, really self-consciously.

"Actually, Hotch-I mean my boss is just annoyed that my doctor won't give me medical clearance for another two weeks-full use of my legs is required in my line of work."

I sniggered "What are you-a male prostitute?"

Shit, did I actually just ask the customer that? I was terrible about speaking before thinking. This is worse than the time last year when I asked somebody if she was pregnant. She proceeded to break my nose with a head of broccoli because he actually wasn't (both pregnant or a woman.) Not one of my finer moments.

The customer (Medieval surfer haircut crutch guy I dubbed him) looked completely, utterly bewildered.

"No actually," he stared at me "I'm an agent in the FBI."

Mental face palm- Did I seriously just ask a federal _agent _if he was a male prostitute?

A Federal Agent?

This was a very bad day.

I let out this really odd, nervous giggle thing "Does this mean you're going to arrest me now?" I was half joking, but not really.

He looks taken aback "Not unless you go on a killing spree within the next half hour," Medieval surfer haircut crutch federal agent guy replies slowly.

I have absolutely no idea if he is joking or not and have no clue what to say in response. So of course, I don't laugh, and instead just stare (presumably with a really weird expression on my face).

There is a super long, freaking awkward silent pause.

"Aha," I clear my throat "Erm…so what groceries do you need today?"

He nodded once "Groceries."

Why? Just why? I'm starting to believe that there is a universal conspiracy against me.

* * *

As a door greeter and personal shopping assistant, otherwise known as a cart pusher (it's a special program set up for seniors who can't reach shelves or push carts themselves, or federal agents with crutches apparently) my favourite part of the job is examining people's food. This sounds very strange, and really is an odd habit, but it's kind of amusing.

For example, this guy is obviously single (like I didn't know this before). He had a bag each of carrots and apples, several cans of soup, a box of crackers, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and bizarrely, a ten pound bag of sugar.

All was explained once we hit the coffee aisle. It was against protocol to comment on people's choices, but I had to ask. Why on earth did this guy need three packages (5 pounds each) of coffee?

"Morgan-sorry my coworkers, anyways I caught them trying to switch sugar for salt last week. I figured I should just make my own for a while," the way he says this, all matter of factly, he makes it sound like this activity is perfectly normal.

"So you work shift work then," I point at his cart "Not much food, lots of coffee."

He made a face "Not so much shift work as excessively long, odd hours. Plus, I'm scientifically considered an insomniac. Coffee keeps me going."

"For the next six months," I raise my eyebrows. Medieval surfer haircut, crutch federal agent, insomniac guy looks sheepish.

"This will probably last a month or so," he admits, and I balk "I'm a seven or so cup a day kind of guy."

What the _hell_? I gulp down a cup of the stuff, and kept going on for the next three days.

"Can we go to the checkouts?" he asked and I turned the cart "I want to get my groceries home before I get called in-"

His phone buzzed from his pocket and he sighed, reading the message "Never mind. Is there any way I could pick these up later?"

"Sure," I respond as he texted somebody quickly, leaning against a shelf for support, wobbling "We can keep your cart at the checkouts."

"Thanks," he exclaimed gratefully, beginning to hobble (so gracefully, almost hitting three people on his way out) towards the exit.

"Wait!" I called out and he turned. _He really is cute_, I thought to myself. Not that I noticed or anything "I need your name." He nods.

"Spencer Reid," I take the closest whiteboard, scribble S. Reid on it and chuck it in the cart, then head back towards the front of the store. You really could meet some interesting people here.

* * *

Almost immediately, the doors at the entrance open revealing a tall, well-toned African American man wearing a skin-tight shirt. He was wearing an expression I associated with my twelve year old brother whenever he steals an extra cookie or goes to bed half an hour late. This guy was obviously up to something.

"Hey there," he waved at me, speaking in a low urgent voice "Did one Dr. Spencer Reid just leave this store?"

"Medieval surfer haircut crutches federal agent guy? Tall, skinny, spouting off random crap?"

"That's him"

"He just left…got called into work or something. I didn't realise he was a doctor…he seemed really young." I thought back to him. A doctor? Wearing converse sneakers?

"That's Reid," the guy looked around, making sure nobody was listening "Did he happen to leave his groceries?"

"How did you know?" I asked, amazed. Maybe he was a stalker.

"Could I maybe look at his cart?" the man questioned, and I suddenly realised that this must be a coworkers.

"April Fool's day trick, huh?"

"Very good-"he consults my nametag "Gianna?"

"Ginny," I quickly correct. Chasity is the only one who calls me Gianna and it drives me crazy. Thankfully she was on break and didn't hear a word of our conversation.

"Could I just see his cart?"

I relented and led him to the place where Dr. Spencer Reid's groceries sit waiting. In one smooth gesture, Morgan (I presume) quickly replaced the ten pound bag of sugar with an identical one he had in shopping bag.

"Salt?" I questioned, knowing the answer straight away.

He flashed a smile, and I know I'm right.

"April Fool's day is the only day of the year when you can legitimately prank people," he justified "Plus, I need groceries."

After smiling again, he knapped a nearby cart and began to walk down the aisles.

All I could was shake my head. That was very strange. Poor Dr. Reid was going to have a nasty surprise whenever he had coffee next. Which based on his average daily consumption, would be soon.

* * *

Half an hour later I got pulled from door greeting to supervising the shop-go station, where people parked their carts if they had to leave suddenly, like Dr. Reid. His cart was the only one there.

I was bored.

Suddenly, the tall African American Morgan guy approached quickly, his phone ringing shrilly.

"Work?" I guessed, grabbing a whiteboard.

"Serial killers have no sense of occasion," he grumbled, parking his cart "Saturday, of all days. With NHL playoffs tonight! Thanks kid."

Serial killers?

"Who's playing?" I asked "And I need a name please."

"Ottawa and Detroit. Derek Morgan."

I hurriedly scribbled his name down as he sprinted out. Suddenly a blond woman with a gleam in her eye approached.

This wasn't good.

"Do these carts belong to-" I cut her off.

"Medieval haircut insomniac crutches guy, Dr. Spencer Reid and macho alpha guy Derek Morgan."

She laughed loudly "Perfect descriptions! You should be a profiler!"

A what?

"Look, my name is Jennifer. I work with both of those men."

"You're all in the FBI?" I demanded, amazed, and then very frightened "Why are you at the _grocery store_?"

"We eat too," she snorted, which she turned into a cough "I have a baby at home, and he needs stuff."

"Aha," I pretended to understand "So, um, why do you want to who they are?" She grinned wickedly.

"April Fool's day," her smile widened.

Oh yes. Otherwise known as the day where FBI agents can run around rampant like immature adolescents. I don't say that though.

"Do you want to help me brainstorm ideas?" she asked "Please? I have nothing. Nada. Zip."

"Sure," maybe it will get me fired "Pink cupcakes and romance novels?"

"Ohh, good. Um, replace their groceries with boxes of rocks and stuff?"

"Too much work. Run up a massive bill and stick it on them?" Jennifer's face clouded

"Reid doesn't have that much money, I don't think. His mum is…ill and requires a lot of care."

We brainstormed for ten more minutes, finally deciding to stuff bags of pink cupcakes, trashy paperback romances (you know _Mist in the Night, The Song, and The Smell of Denial) _and tampons to add to the effect. They would be able to return them without any problems.

Half an hour later, they showed up to pick up their groceries, and another half hour later, Morgan stormed in to customer service, returned Jennifer's 'gift'. Ditto for Dr. Reid, who was very shy and awkward, whispering to the clerk, who laughed. I made sure to tell Stacey about the prank.

As Morgan headed for the exit, obviously in a foul mood, he spotted Jennifer. I could see the pieces clicking together in his head, like a jigsaw puzzle.

"Why, hello Derek," she said pleasantly "Good day?"

"_Fantastic _J.J. Why, Hotch was so impressed whenever I showed up, only to realise that THERE WAS NO CASE!" he sniped.

"My deepest sympathies. Well, see you on Monday," she smiled angelically "Enjoy your day and your 'groceries'."

He stomped out, leaving me slightly confused. That meant that he must have texted Dr. Reid. Which meant that the doctor must still have the salt in the sugar bag.

Ouch. Poor Reid. Twice in one day. And he actually hadn't _done _anything. It was karma, Jennifer getting Morgan, but Reid?

They pranked a cripple, _twice_? That was low.

Well, at least my shift had been…well…interesting.

* * *

**well? Reviews are appreciated! Tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **

**Thanks to all who read and reviewed last chapter! Here is chapter two!**

**And just for clarification, this a a complete crack fic. I ****_really _****doubt that this would ever happen...I sorta hope actually!**

**I don't own Criminal Minds or the song 'Wake me Up' by Avicii. This is purely for recreation etc. All belong to their respective owners. **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Whenever Kelly saw me approaching, she smiled, flipped over a milk crate and gestured me over. I was on the Saturday door greeting shift again, a week later. Thankfully, today I had not been involved in any mindless pranks or FBI agents on crutches.

Last week was weird.

I took seat, sighing, just glad to be on break. Chasity was being her usual overbearing, freakishly happy self and it was annoying me to no end.

Kelly smiled, her face wrinkled. She's older, like in her thirties or something, and the only employee I could bum cigarettes off of. I didn't _smoke_, just to confirm, but I enjoyed the rebellious behaviour that mum would flip out at.

Kelly handed me the pack, and I took one, immediately doubling over in a coughing fit after she lit it. I hate smoking. Kelly thinks it's cute. She always tells me that she was my age when she started smoking, and a year later she had her baby.

Nolan happened to be a year old then me, and is like, the nicest kid ever. And local chemistry/physics/biology/math king. He has a scholarship to MIT next year.

As I took a drag (and begin watering at the eyes) I hear a sharp voice and clicky heels behind me. To my utter bewilderment (and fear) I see a woman approaching me. She blond with glasses, colourful, shocking clothing and a curvy figure.

And a pink feathered boa. And several bright, fluffy….things in her hair. And…faux snakeskin high heeled boots?

I bet she's in the FBI.

I'm kidding by the way.

She marched up to me, a _very_ scary expression on her face and whipped her boa over her shoulder. The cigarette smouldered between my two fingers. Kelly was nowhere to be seen.

"Just what are you doing?" she demanded, pointing at my hand. I feel paralyzed. Why did I _always_ attract the weirdoes?

"Um…I can explain…sorta…" I trail off, not sure what to say under her unnerving gaze. She snatches the cigarette butt and crushes it under her boot, which is impressive because they're four inch stilettos.

"Sweetums, you're just going to destroy yourself from the inside out," she explained in a motherly voice.

Sweetums?

"I understand," I replied, trying to look regretful "I won't ever do it again, I promise." She nodded, satisfied

"Well, I'll make sure you keep that promise," she gives a smile and clicks towards the entrance.

Maybe I'm hallucinating.

That's one of my more rationale explications. Another, less likely scenario is that somehow I've been kidnapped by aliens and I've being analyzed for medical experiments on a faraway planet.

I wonder why I have no friends.

I get up, dust off my apron and head back into the store. Break was almost over so now I get to return to hell…whoops, I mean, work.

Suddenly, as I'm trying to drown out Chasity's ramblings about nothingness, the two guys return from last week. You know, crutch medieval hair guy and alpha macho guy. Dr. Reid is still doing his awkward penguin shuffle routine and just took out an old lady's walker, while Morgan is holding a USB drive looking triumphant.

Oh no.

They don't say a word. Instead, they go and hide behind a display laden with pastry. They seem to be waiting. For what, I'm not sure.

I'm around to march over and question them (as a store employee, I can do that!) whenever Jennifer walks in, pushing a cart and looking utterly oblivious. Her blond hair is messy and she's wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt.

I connect the dots in my head and decide that I really, truly don't want to know.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, I get handed a broom and told to go sweep up wherever needs to be swept. I wander around the store aimlessly, finally finding a broken box of crackers. I get to work, and see nearby Jennifer and that rather frightening snakeskin boot lady in conversation. They're laughing and I guess they know each other.

There's no way that pink feather boa person is in the FBI actually, is there? I was joking about it earlier. Seriously.

They're discussing in front of the large screen that occupies the back wall. It runs advertisements and 'cooking' shows, which are actually hosted by the store's accountant wearing a French chef uniform and filmed in the back room of the store with a cellphone camera.

I never said that Uncle Harold was known for his cunning mind.

Anyways.

The crackers are cleaned up and I begin to walk when the lights dim. Not much, but noticeably. I looked around in confusion. Suddenly, a voice booms over the intercom and I freeze. So do Jennifer and the other woman. They obviously know the voice, like I do.

Because it belongs to one Derek Morgan.

"Hello ladies and gentleman," you can hear the grin in his voice "We're sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled shopping, however we have an important event."

I hear Jennifer groan "Reid…"

Reid?

"Today is the first annual Grocery Land dance off!" he exclaimed, leaving everybody in the store (including me) paralyzed with confusion.

"Who should we have start off our competition?" he asked laughter in his voice. Nearby, Jennifer was so pale it looked like she was about to face the noose.

Boom. Somehow a camera landed on her and the person next to her, their images magnified onto the screen. I had to admit, I was impressed. It must have taken some serious computer hacking and coding ability do what they did.

Jennifer on the other hand looked mortified. Like she actually may faint. A beat drops on the intercom system and I recognize it as Avicii's '_Wake me Up'._ A crowd had gathered around her, leaving no place for escape.

"C'mon J.J show us what you got!" Morgan yelled and around her, people begin to cheer. Jennifer looks like she would like to murder them. Then, she gets this look of utter determination and steps into the middle of the circle.

She is _awful. _At first she moves her arms and legs in a half-hearted attempt, then actually starts to try, which is mostly jumping around. She appears to be doing her own, very odd moves (some of the more memorable ones being the dying duck, decapitated chicken and half robot/moonwalk shuffle thing). Suddenly the boa lady throws off her snakeskin boots and starts…dancing. I think.

They're both horrible. Like, apocalyptic bad.

She's currently doing this chicken dance/Irish clog routine and it's not working. At all.

But then the chorus pounds around the store and _everyone_ is dancing.

Everybody.

Just like that.

In the pasta section. The organics aisle. A man begins to juggle apples. One girl drops down and starts doing a brake routine. A sweeper named Eddie moonwalks (and a legitimate moonwalk) by, singing into his broom. The entire Grocery Land is filled with grooving people.

In the center of it all is Jennifer, who is acting like a teenager who is _way _too drunk at a party. It's scary. She's going to have several pulled muscles by tomorrow.

Ouch. And maybe a neck brace.

I pinched myself several times and close my eyes. I'm sure it's just a bad dream. I mean, in a few minutes I will wake up sweating and mumbling 'what an awful dream! Grocery Land erupted into dance! No way that could _ever _happen!' It's very reassuring. I open my eyes again.

And the cold reality sets in. Grocery Land has broken out into an unplanned, unexplained dance party.

I'm going to go get hit by a bus or something now. It's official. I've seen it all.

Some random guy in a kilt (yes, a kilt? What?) begins some odd jumping routine, hopping back and forth with a very taken aback Snake skin lady. After a while they're…hopping back and forth in a rhythm.

I rub my eyes and blink. Repeatedly.

The song ended abruptly and everyone began cheering and clapping. Jennifer and the other lady take bows and blow kisses. Then everyone began shopping, like nothing ever happened. One woman asks Eddie causally how much the tomatoes cost. He replies in a bored voice that they're on sale. The brake dancer dusted herself off and picked up her basket again. The juggler placed the apples in a bag and pushed his cart away.

That didn't just happen, did it?

Jennifer and the lady look murderous. I overhear one fragment 'Kill Reid."

"Why Dr. Reid?" I ask curiously, broom in hand "Morgan was on the intercom, wasn't he?"

"Morgan couldn't have hacked the computer system like that," the boa lady replied, sweating profusely "Junior J man is the only one."

"Working with Morgan with the knowledge," Jennifer finished the sentence with barred teeth "Reid's an MIT graduate. Oh Reid, revenge will be mine."

"I am going home to try and forget that this actually happened," she waved at Jennifer "Maybe I'm dreaming. Later girl,"

"See you Garcia," Jennifer smiled tightly "You better get sweeping again," she pointed at my broom. I nodded heading to the checkouts, still convinced I was asleep. They always needed to be swept.

Actually I was more curious to see if Uncle Harold called the cops on Dr. Reid and Morgan for hacking into the computer system and causing a dance session in the middle of his grocery store.

Instead I was greeted to Uncle Harold passed out on the ground. No…what a minute...he was laughing?

I had never witnessed Uncle Harold laugh. Or smile. Ever.

But here he was, rolling on the ground, laughing so hard he was crying. I contemplated seeing if I could help, but decided against it and turned around.

Both FBI agents Reid and Morgan were doubled over in hysterics.

I grabbed my keys and went home.

I give up.

* * *

Hotch entered an unusually quiet bullpen Monday morning. Morgan was completing some paperwork, J.J was on her laptop, and Reid was reading. Garcia was with them, due to lack of work in her office. The girls were glaring.

At first Hotch worried that maybe the team had a fight. But then he noticed something strange-the corners of Reid's mouth were twitching and Morgan was gulping down excessive amounts of coffee.

They were trying not to laugh at the glares.

Hotch stared for a minute, then headed for his office. He went onto YouTube first thing to get pumped up with some music, like he did every morning.

However, he paused. Hotch looked closely at the home screen. That video… it resembled the nearby grocery store. He clicked on the title 'Sudden Dance Breakout at Grocery Store!' In less than 24 hours, it had been viewed tens of thousands of times.

His frown deepened the longer he watched. All he could was shake his head and sigh, watching two senior FBI agents danced like drunken…drunks.

He face palmed at Garcia's chicken dance.

Hotch, with his elite profiling skills, was able to conclude two things.

Reid and Morgan were behind this and 2) he _really _didn't want to know.

* * *

**So, what did you think? Please review if you could! It means a lot! **

**Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

**So here is chapter three! Thank you to everyone who viewed and espically those who reviewed!**

**Chapter three is a bit differrent, however, chaptyer four will get back to the revenge of Jennifer.**

**Disclaimer: i dont own criminal minds, harry potter or the reference to 'the outsiders.'**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

I think I have gone insane.

Okay, so maybe I came up with that conclusion a long, long time ago. It comes from being the middle child in a massive mixed family. Nine siblings, half, step, whatever. It makes for some interesting home movies (which often involve way too much ketchup).

Oh yes, and too many cats. Did I forget to mention them?

Of course I did. I hate cats.

I'm not joking.

Cats are the bane of my existence.

Actually, no, my door greeting job is first, with cats in a close second.

See? Inner monologus about cats are not normal. I'm insane. It's established.

Phew. I wasn't sure whether I was getting my point across.

"Um...Gianna?" Chastity's annoyingly familiar voice broke into my thoughts "Were you listening to me?"

Damn. I hate it when people do that. You're not actually listening, then they ask if you are and then you have to lie. Its an awkward situation. Teachers are the worst.

"Let's recap," I suggested in a cheerful tone. Chastity huffed, irritated. That was her main emotion.

"I asked if you could take my Thursday shift. It's two hours, max. I'm busy." She spoke in a high pitched voice, blushing. I shrugged.

"Whatever," I acted like it wasn't a big deal, but it actually meant that I would have to rush home from field hockey. However, it also meant that she owed me one. So it all worked out the next time I wanted to skip my shift.

Which based on my current mental state, would be soon. I was still recovering from last weeks dance breakout. The YouTube video had received nearly a million views, and all of a sudden, Grocery Land was swarming with reporters and curious tourists. Nothing much else changed.

Oh yeah. Uncle Harold now has a hernia.

But hey, the old guy was so rigid that he should have snapped into two, like a wax candle. So we're lucky.

And so far, I had not seen any crazy/physiopathological FBI agents. This was good. Very good.

I should have known that my luck would run out.

* * *

Of course Xiang from the flower aisle called in sick. She was pregnant (like, three months though-c'mon! It was more likely she was hung over). So, in turn, Ginny the door greeter converts into Ginny the flowers aisle helper.

Have I mentioned that I hate my life?

And cats. Don't forget the cats.

In the flower aisle, it is easy to forget your troubles because you're so focused on not passing out due to the suffocating smell of a thousand perfume shops crammed into one place. I'm serious. It reeks.

Sitting at the cash and reading travel brochures is the easiest way to pass the time, because nobody passes through the aisle.

Ever.

I mean it.

Never.

So that Saturday afternoon, I was doing just that, plus the added bonus of seasonal allergies. Hay, pollen, you name it, I'm allergic.

Friggin Xiang.

Suddenly, from my perch, I heard voices. Loud voices.

"No, no, we got him a orchid last year," an unfarmilar woman's voice bosses "Let's go for a nice perennial."

"He kills plants Prentiss," another woman's voice, vaguely recognizable "Nothing expensive."

"Look, I don't know anything about gift shopping," a man protested.

I froze.

No...?

, My knees gave out. I crawled underneath the desk and tried to hide, unsuccessfully behind the waste paper basket.

Why me? Why did I get stuck with government agents? I was quite certain that hiding underneath a desk was not a normal response.

The voices were louder now, and I prayed they wouldn't see me.

"Um...hello?"

Shit.

I took a deep breath, stood up and hit my head on the table, and dusted myself off, giving a horrible smile.

The officers who 'knew' me-Jennifer, Morgan, Dr. Reid, all looked about as awkward.

"We're looking for a plant for our boss," a guy I hadn't noticed talked in a slow drawl that clearly indicated he was rather confused about why I had been hiding underneath my desk.

He sounded cool. New York meets Italian mobster. That's a combination you don't see everyday in Virginia.

"Occasion?" I asked, trying to keep my calm. Professional. I was a grocery store professional.

Not working.

"Birthday," the Garcia lady responded.

Oh my God.

She looked like a gypsy. Huge hoop earrings, a red bandana, gauzy white shirt, long black skirt to the floor covered in stars. I took a closer look at the others. Crutch guy had progressed to a cane. Morgan looked the same as ever. Italian mobster with the new York accent was older, wearing a leather jacket and dress pants (hello greasers). Jennifer was obviously wearing work clothes. The woman I didn't recognize had straight dark hair.

All FBI agents.

Why?

I coughed once to clear my throat. Calm. Zen mode.

"The thing is, he kills plants." Dr. Red explained "Heather the hydrangea lasted two weeks last year."

Heather the hydrangea?

"Go for a fish," I suggested logically "they never last long. People, such as your boss, will probably try to kill it on purpose. They are cheap. Ten cents a fish."

The group looked thoughtful.

"Its like, another five dollars the bowl and rocks," I added. I would know. Last Christmas I gave my Will, my half brother one. Sparkles lasted forty eight hours.

"You know, that's a good idea," Jennifer resembled a child in a candy store the way her face was shining "No more boring plants!"

They all agreed, and I led them to the pet aisle. Fifteen minutes and a grand total of ten bucks later, the goldfish they had bought was dubbed Freddy and swam happily around the plastic bag. All whole group of them couldn't conceal their excitement.

"Hotch will hate him!" the woman with the dark hair looked delighted.

I wasn't exactly sure why this was such a terrific prospect, but hey, there had been no dance breakouts or stupid practical jokes. I was happy.

In an eye twitching, hand shaking way, but happy is happy!

* * *

The Thursday afternoon shift was quite possibly the two most boring hours of my life. Worse the driving through the Canadian province of New Brunswick to get to Prince Edward Island so we could see red sand.

It was awful.

Thankfully, I was almost finished. The apron was off, my keys in hand, I was ready to sign out and leave. Be gone, Thursday night shift!

Then, of course, Agent Prentiss rushed in. Actually, more like sprinted. Up to me. I groaned.

"I need another fish!" She gasped for air, gesturing wildly towards the pet aisle "Fast!"

"Why?" I rolled my eyes "Wasn't the purpose of buying a fish was so it could die? Quickly?"

"You don't understand," she panted "We gave him Freddy. He smiled in his professional Hotch manor. Then he tapped on the glass and Freddy swam up to see him."

"And?" I was losing patience. We were having macaroni and cheese for dinner.

"Hotch giggled."

"So?"

"Hotch doesn't laugh! Hotch doesn't smile! Him giggling is like...Voldemort giving out candy to children."

"Harry Potter references?" I raised my eyebrows. She looked cross.

"I live alone with my cat okay? I just need another fish! Freddy one died ten minutes ago!"

"Sure thing." I sighed as she shoved a dime in my hand and I quickly fished out another goldfish from the tank. She smiled gratefully and sprinted towards the door.

Apparently FBI agents aren't allowed to form bonds with fish. I will remember that.

* * *

Twenty three year old Jack Hotchner worked feverishly on his university thesis. He took a sip of sugar loaded coffee, a trick he had learned from his godfather for pulling all nighters.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door. It was hesitant, and quiet.

"Dad?" He called out. The door swung open, and from his desk he saw his father, trembling with tears.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Jack began to panic. His dad sniffled.

"Jack...I'm afraid Freddy has...passed away." Hotch broke down crying.

Jack swore to himself. He was so busy working he had forgotten to check on the stupid fish. After his father left, he pulled out his phone and sent Prentiss a text.

_Freddy #352 just died and dad figured out._

She replied quickly.

_Darn. I have Freddy #353...what should I do?_

Jack had no idea. He saved his thesis whenever his dad yelled at him to come down and attend the funeral. Freddy was buried in a Tic Tac box in the garden.

Hotch cried for two days, completely unaware that there had been more then three hundred Freddie's before this one.

Prentiss threatened the team with a gun to keep quiet about it.

Jack couldn't believe his father thought a goldfish had lived for more then a decade.

Hotch continued to mourn.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I would love it if you tell me your thoughts! **

**Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

Well, here you go chapter 4!

I'mm not super happy with this one, but it will do!

Again,I don't own Criminal minds or references to other stuff.

Thanks for reading :)

* * *

I was starting to believe in reincarnation.

This primarily due to the fact that I was sitting on a park bench, wearing a Doctor Who costume I rented online and serving lemonade and cookies.

Why this sudden change in mindset?

Because I have become utterly convinced that in a previous life, I must have done something _really _bad.

Like kick puppies for fun. Or maybe take candy from babies.

Whatever I did, I apologize. You hear that universe? I'm sorry!

Forget locusts. I received plagues of insane FBI agents.

Let me explain why:

It was last Saturday, and like usual I was working the morning shift. However, it was just one of those days where no matter what happened, everything just seemed to get worse. I had a cold, my wisdom teeth were growing in (my dentist _laughed _and told me I was a statistical anomaly) I had this massive bandage on my nose because I broke it in soccer on Tuesday, Bec, my sister announced she was leaving for New Zealand to go organic farming, we ran out of my favourite cereal and my apron was MITL-Missing in the Laundry.

It just wasn't a good day.

Oh yes, and I had a test on Monday that I hadn't studied for at all.

Life hates me.

Chasity was going on about something in her cheerful demeanor. Like I cared. She was the one who 'accidently' pushed me 'just a little' into the bleachers and broke my nose on Tuesday.

Ha. She got a red card and a three week suspension. Serves her right.

I checked my watch, and groaned when I realised that the hands had only moved five minutes since when I last checked. The store was slow. It was beautiful outside, the first nice weekend of the year, so everyone, including my family, were probably all outside, basking in sunlight, leaving groceries until a lousy day.

Which left me in a bored state similar to that of a zombie. I was considering walking around the store, demanding for brains but I don't think Uncle Harold would appreciate the humour.

Of course, this was until Jennifer walked in, looking triumphant. I rolled my eyes. Maybe they wanted another Freddy.

She didn't even acknowledge me as she walked right to towards Uncle Harold, who had gotten his hernia fixed. He was sitting in a wheelchair, mouth set in a grim line. They began talking. My uncle nodded knowingly as she gestured towards her enormous, suspicious looking bag.

I guess it wasn't a bomb like I assumed it was.

Darn.

Jennifer must have gotten the answer she was looking for, because she headed for the exit, an enormous grin on her face.

"Ginny!" Uncle Harold barked at me "Go get some tables from storage!"

I hate being a bloody golden retriever.

"And some chairs too!"

Right.

I headed off and got the required supplies, pushing it on one of those lifter things with wheels. I don't know the real name. Lifter thing with wheels usually works just fine.

I was instructed by my dear uncle to set them up for the blond lady near the exit. By the time I reached Jennifer, she already had this large banner/sign thing up. Its large block letters read 'Come Talk to our Doctor About The Doctor!'

This couldn't be good.

Oh yes. I almost forgot. FBI agents automatically mean something _very _bad will occur shortly.

In two minutes, Jennifer explained everything to me. She had pamphlets. She was organized. I had to admit, I was quite surprised that anyone put as much time and effort into pranks as these FBI agents did.

In the end, I guess it was _meant_ to be a practical joke, I was certain. Maybe she had baby brain that clouded her judgment (or sanity).

Anyways, the moral of this story is that Jennifer should be proud of herself.

She single handily created the largest sci-fi event in New England.

* * *

Jennifer's plan was to publicly humiliate Reid like he did to her by creating a phoney science fiction event to be held in the local park. She assumed that Reid wouldn't have a clue and therefore there would be this huge uproar whenever Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI agent didn't show up.

However, she didn't calculate in that Reid would discover that he was supposed to be delivering a talk on Dr. Who in the park on Wednesday night. Not only did he show up on time and prepared to do a two hour lecture, he was in costume.

He also had a slideshow.

And an assistant.

Who was also in costume.

And he was a _huge_ hit. Like I mean, enormous. Over five hundred people showed up. The reporters had a field day. He was on the front cover of the newspaper the next day and one of the first stories on the nightly broadcast. Nobody was really sure who organized it (I have an inkling that Reid may have known, but didn't let on) but several city counsellors decided since it was so popular, they would have a Star Trek one soon.

Oh yeah. They also thought since it was so successful, they would have a whole weekend dedicated-like some com a con on drugs. Reid headlined.

There was a license plate from every state down the atlantic seaboard all the way to Flordia and quite a few from Canada as well. The end talley concluded that over 10,000 people showed up, and there were rumours that they may get some celebritys next year.

Grocery Land served lemonade and cookies and somehow I pulled a shift. I didn't even _know _who I was dressed up as. This was the cheapest costume I could find, because for some odd reason we _had _to dress up.

I don't even like science fiction.

Of course if I said this with this crowd around, I would probably get mobbed.

The worst thing was, Jennifer legitimately, actually cried. I sorta assumed it had something to do the pre-baby hormones. But she actually walked into the store and started flat out bawling at the success she created. It took forty two minutes and thirty seconds to calm her down.

I should have known that Reid and Jennifer weren't finished. My next shift after the weekend of talking to people wearing various get ups, a Wednesday afternoon, Jennifer stormed in, obviously fuming.

"Did Reid come in here?" she cried out "Did he?"

"Yah?" I responded, not understanding what the big deal was "Dairy section." He was now walking on his own. I was so proud.

Sarcasm.

She sprinted towards the dairy aisle, receiving several bewildered glances.

I had no idea what was going on. That is, until I figured out that Jennifer had _very _impressive lung capacity.

"YOU JERK REID!" she shouted which could be heard straight across the grocery store "Do you realise that I just received a mail order package of bagpipes?"

I watched the scene unfold behind a shelf.

Reid gave her a startled glance "Um, no actually," he replied in a confused tone.

"Then who sent these?!" Jennifer was obviously homicidal "What am I going to do with an effing set of bagpipes?"

"Start Highland games?" He shrugged and put down a block of cheese, sighing wistfully "You seem to have a real knack for organizing other large festivals, why not add another one to your protege? Currently North Amercia's largest games take place in a small village in the middle of nowehere."

"I dont care," she sniped "you will pay Reid!"

'That honestly doesnt sound that frightening," he responded in a mild tone while she stormed away. As I watched Reid shake his head slowly, the Italian guy Rossi and who I assumed to be their boss (he didnt blink-it was sorta strange) snigger behind a display.

"Bagpipes?" I repeated hollowly "I thought you guys werre supposed to be...you know...creative. Or smart in any case."

They exchanged a glance and shrugged.

"It's funny to watch Reid get confused," Italian guy explained in a low voice "It doesnt happen too often."

"Besides, bagpipes only had a three day wait. A case of Vegimite would take a few months."

"I understand your logic," I replied in a sarcatic tone "Very...mauture."

"There are no rules stating that SSA agents cannot prank members of their own team in a grocery store," boss Hotch guy answered in a strong voice.

"We checked," Rossi nodded knowinly.

Maybe I'll become a serial killer just to give these poor people something to do.

* * *

Well, what do u think? Reviews are apperciated! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter. Thank you so much for reviews! **

**As usual, I don't own anything-criminal minds or any other references to other stuff mentioned-they all belong to their rightful owners. **

**Anyways, thanks for reading! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

I suppose everybody has an irrational fear. Like my brother for instance, it is skunks. He is petrified of them for no reason at all.

But seriously, everyone is afraid of something silly or obscure. Like spiders. Everybody is afraid of them, but honestly, what harm do they do? They help ecosystems, scuttling around on those long eight legs, staring with too many eyes, clicking as they wait for their next victim...

Okay, fine. I admit it. I don't like spiders.

Its the legs alright? Anything with more then four is weird. And frightening.

And I guess some irrational fears have some grounds to them. My step sister Courtney keeps canned soup in our closet in case of nuclear war or Yellowstone volcano erupting. Although one day it _may_ come in handy (stress may) it is darn annoying to be groping around in the dark looking for clothing and then have a dozen aluminum cans crash onto your feet. Trust me. It hurts.

Personal experience.

I have broken three toes as a result.

However, back to the point.

My big, irrational fear is not nuclear war or spiders.

It's dentists.

I believe this fear is rooted from a nightmare I had in grade eight. This is the gist of it: my dentist, Dr. Sharp (can you believe the irony in that?) transformed into a monster. All of a sudden had a chainsaw in my mouth and I was crying and screaming and he just stared at me with these great red, rolling eyes. There was blood everywhere, all over me. Then I realized that I no longer had any teeth and I was running around, begging for them back, while he was chasing me down the street. Every tooth I touched vanished and he kept getting closer and closer.

Urgh. It scares me just thinking about it. Apparently I was screaming so loudly that my entire family crowded around Courtney and my bedroom. Then we all made hot chocolate and had an impromptu family bonding session.

That may have been part of the dream as well.

Never mind.

The point is, I don't like dentists.

* * *

"Gin, are you alright?" Red asked, concerned as I tapped my foot obsessively. I jumped.

"I'm fine!" I insisted heartily "What makes you think I wouldn't be? See, I'm great!" I began inging a Disney song out loud and Red looks genuinely concerned.

"You seem...a bit...high strung," Red replied, watching me warily "Are you sure you don't need a breather? Or a few shots of rye?"

Just then door opened and I shrieked, jumping in surprise. The woman gave me a cross look as I tried to stop hyperventilating.

Red is a university student who I have worked with a few times. He seemed pretty cool. By now, I am quite sure he thinks I may be mad. For the first time in weeks, I'm working the Saturday morning shift with someone new (Chastity had some family thing, or so she says). I would be pumped, except I'm too...er...excitable.

"Oh,m you know, just my usual self!" I exclaimed too heartily, giving into peels of nervous laughter "Teeth and all!"

He gave me a bewildered look "Teeth?"

"Yah!" I agreed, still laughing nervously "Teeth! Little blocks of calcium, you know. Rabbits!" I pretended to make ears with my index fingers on my head and hop around.

Red looked scared.

"Yah, I know about teeth," he replied in a steady voice "I'm training to be a dentist."

My heart stopped.

Did he just say...dentist?

As in dentist, dentist?

I screamed and dashed towards the woman's washroom.

* * *

In the end, it took fifteen minutes and Kelly, Xiang and Stacey from costumer services to coax me out of hiding underneath the sinks.

"We're just going to put you here," Xiang said in a motherly voice, planting me on a bench outside the bathrooms "You can talk to this nice gentleman here."

I saw her mouth the word 'please'. He nodded and gave a thumbs up. She visibly sighed with relief.

"Do you have an irrational fear?" I demanded in a rapid tone. He nodded, not at all disturbed by my...odd behavior.

"I'm afraid of the toucan on the Fruit Loops box," he admitted "My son always begs me to buy them, but I refuse. I can't handle having that bird in my house."

I laughed in spite of my self. He smiled.

"I have no idea why either," he added "It just freaks me out."

"Dentists." I replied, shuddering

"Why?" He looks calculating at me, trying to figure me out.

"I don't want my wisdom teeth out," I whimpered, sounding like a six year old.

"When are you getting them put?" He looked slightly surprised that I would even have wisdom teeth, but hey, statistical anomaly.

"Tuesday," I groan. He gives me another smile.

"You'll do fine. Everybody gets their wisdom teeth out at one point or another. I was twenty one. Had them out on my birthday,"

"And you're alive?" I questioned. He nodded.

"Don't worry about a thing," he reassured me. And honestly, I was starting to feel better.

"Actually wisdom tooth removal procedures have the highest rate of infection and-"

"Reid!" The man next to me effectively shut him up. I did lose my cool, until his hair distracted me.

Woah. Medieval surfer boy hair Dr. Reid used to sport now looked like something from One Direction.

"Did you lose Harry?" I asked bitterly. The guy next to me suppressed a smile and Prentiss with the straight dark hair suddenly appeared from behind a shelf, laughing. I wasn't even aware she was here.

Reid obviously didn't get the reference and looked confused "What? Who's Harry?"

"Never mind," I mumbled, feeling stupid.

Jennifer marched up to Reid. I wasn't surprised to she her though. This was because I must possess a honing gene or something that attracts BAU members.

"Carpool is leaving in five minutes," she informed all of them with an air of irritability .

"You carpool?" I demanded, making a face and forgetting my dental woes.

"Gas isn't cheap," Hotch explained (okay, yah, I finally clued in that the guy I was sitting next to was actually the leader of an FBI team, but heck, we all have irrational fears.)

"Plus Reid isn't allowed to drive," Prentiss added with a smirk.

"My second opinion said I could!" He protested feebly.

"You were your second opinion," interjected Jennifer angrily "C'mon guys, seriously! Henry needs to be fed and my stupid sitter just doubled her hourly rate..." She trailed off, muttering something about parasite 15 year olds.

I tagged along to the cash, ready to rejoin Red at the door. Calmed down.

Teeth still intact.

Do not think about teeth.

Suddenly I felt an arm around my neck, making it hard to breath. I gasped aloud, and the FBI agents whirled around, shock clear in their faces.

It was then I noticed that there was a gun.

To my temple.

As in, a 'bang, you're dead' kind of gun.

Maybe it was one when you pulled the trigger, a little flag rolls down with 'POW!' in big letters.

I sorta guessed not.

The realization sunk in. I was being held hostage. At a grocery store.

A grocery store. What a lame place for a hold up.

C'mon. What happened to banks or western movie era prostitutes?

The agents all reached for their guns, only to realize they didn't have any. The two women quickly found that they were wearing yoga pants and did not have weapons. Reid shrugged when they looked at him expectantly and replied with a look that meant 'well I wasn't expecting being in a hostage situation in the cracker aisle'.

They all turned at Hotch desperately.

"C'mon! You always carry a gun!" Prentiss shouted in an alarmed tone.

"On your ankle!" Jennifer added, her eyes wide.

"You're paranoid," Dr. Reid remarked in a knowing voice.

Thanks. That really helps me.

Hotch shook his head, embarrassed.

"It was giving me chafing marks!" He exclaimed defensively when they glared at him, outraged.

Oh dear God. My life was on the line because the FBI agent didn't have his gun due to him getting diaper rash on his ankle.

It was then my life began flashing before my eyes, Celine Dions's 'My Heart Will Go On' playing in my head.

_'Near, far, wherever you are...'_

Oh, the memories! Playing in the park when I was five. My first bloody lip. Trisha my sister punched me when I took Molly, the shovel.

I don't actually know why we named our sand box toys.

We name everything. It's always been a weird habit.

_'I believe that the heart does go on...'_

My first crush! Michael from grade four! He moved in grade five. I never did know his last name. Nor did I know that he did ballet. If I had known he was now a super rich, single dancer (with amazing abs, I saw them in a magazine) for the national ballet, I would have made more effort to contact him.

_'Once more, you open the door...'_

Mom and Daniel's wedding! I was a flower girl, although a very tall, gangly one in the middle of a growth spurt. I was eleven. Accidentally I fell into Courtney, so every wedding picture has her wearing a muddy dress. Courtney was furious at me and exchanged my drinking water with vodka at dinner. I spent the reminder of the night lying on the bathroom floor, a bucket next to me. I suppose that also counts as my first hangover the next day.

They all come at me, like a flip album. My life passed by my eyes and I watched, transfixed. The song intensified.

_'YOU'RE HERE, THERE'S NOTHING I FEAR...!'_

Jack! I will always love you! Jack!

...?

Wait a second.

What's_ that_ doing in there?

Abruptly the memories ended and I blinked, only to find myself back back in the grocery store. With a gun to my head.

Ah, this day gets better and better.

It sounded like Hotch was trying to reason with him. He was speaking in a low, calm voice, but the words slid past me.

Suddenly my captor gestured the gun wildly.

"Peas!" He shouted in a desperate tone "Give me peas!"

Well this caught the profilers off guard. They all glanced around, confused.

"Peas?" Jennifer whispered, frowning "Why would he want peas?"

"He's looking for love," Reid suddenly understood as the answer came to him "Prentiss, can you go get peas?"

"Frozen or fresh?" There was a definitely a note of sarcasm in her voice. Actually, try her whole tone. She obviously didn't think peas were the answer.

Well, neither did I.

But she scurried off in search of the frozen aisle.

And fantastic, now a crowd was gathering. The girls who had coaxed me out of the bathroom, Red, Uncle Harold.

It was just not my day.

* * *

I fainted after he was handed the bag of peas and he let me go. An ambulance crew and police arrived shortly after. The cops arrested the guy and confiscated his gun.

Which was actually a water gun.

So if he had 'shot' me, I would have just gotten wet hair.

They also took the peas.

I got sent home after that. Mom made me a hot chocolate and I was allowed to sit on the couch and watch idiotic television.

Then she reminded me about Tuesday.

Fuck.

* * *

I suppose, in hindsight, my wisdom teeth procedure could have gone a lot worse.

There could have been an earthquake. Or a fire. I could have died. A nuclear war could have broken out.

My dentist could have turned into a monster.

In reality, the whole thing lasted eight hours. I threw up twice (once over a very disgruntled looking hygienist) I had to have 24 freezing needles. Halfway through, the I.V quit working and they had to switch to laughing gas.

That stuff does weird things to your head.

My mother and two older sisters had to practically drag me to the car. Then, when driving on the highway, they and to pull over to calm me down and convince me that no, they were not leprechauns kidnapping me to Mexico.

Then I proceeded to sing the rest of the way home.

For the next few days, I stayed on the couch and did nothing but watch TV. My mouth throbbed. I would rather the laughing gas.

Mom suddenly approached me, holding an envelope.

"A lady just dropped this off for you," she said, looking suspicious. I took it and opened it. A card fell out. The front of it was two gorillas, one in a hospital gown and crutches and the other helping him walk. They both had comical, cheesy expressions.

Curious, I opened it up. And smiled the biggest I could. It hurt to, but it was worth it.

All the members of BAU that frequented the grocery store had signed it for me. Hotch, Prentiss, Reid, Morgan, Jennifer, even Rossi and Garcia. There was also a $15 Chapters gift card.

They gave me a get well card.

I felt all warm and fuzzy.

I read all of there messages slowly. Jennifer's made me laugh.

_'Get better soon, our favourite grocery store greeter. By the way, please do not mind the card. That is the last time Rossi and Morgan ever step foot in Hallmark.'_

You know what?

Maybe insane, immature FBI agents aren't so bad after all.

* * *

**Okay, so there is chapter five! The wisdom teeth info based mainly off of what I have heard and my sisters experiences. The leprechaun story is actually true. **

**The song is Céline Dion's 'My heart will Go On' and there is a reference to the movie 'Titanic'. I do not own either, nor do I own Fruit Loops and anything else in there. **

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**This isn't my favourite chapter, Again, I don't own anything. Thanks for reading**

* * *

The Wednesday night shift was pitifully slow. This was probably a good thing because my incisions were bleeding, so I had a cloth in my mouth, along with a bandage on my nose, and really, really didn't look good.

Chastity looked almost as miserable as me, sitting, clenching and unclenching her hands. I wanted to ask, but that would mean removing my cloth and bleeding everywhere, which probably wasn't a great idea. Especially since I'm hemophobic, and faint at the sight of blood.

Chasity turned towards me, looking pale and wane. I really wondered what was up. This was not like her at all.

"Look Ginny, I can trust you right?" she looked close to tears. I nodded, the realization that she called me Ginny, not Gianna. She had never done that.

She pulled an envelope from her pocket.

"Can you give this to my parents please?" her voice was weary "like…if anything was to happen to me…just give it them. Okay?"

I nodded, bewildered. That was a bit of a strange request.

She gave me a long searching look, and opened her mouth to say something, then closed it tightly. Slowly, she placed her apron beside me and took a deep breath.

"It's a strange game," she said at once "Scary. You roll the dice, fate in those two little di. You either win or fuck up, but no matter what, it's over. No second chances." She paused "Good luck."

With that she walked out the door.

I blinked once.

What the _hell _did that analogy mean? Was she referring to life? Since when did Chasity swear? I was so confused I forgot about the letter until I noticed it clenched in my hand.

I opened it, reading as quickly as I could, just as Emily marched in.

"I need another Freddy," she chortled, rolling her eyes at the whole situation. I didn't pay attention.

"Hello? Ginny?" she waved a hand in front of my face.

"She's gone to kill herself," I said, after sitting the cloth (plus blood and drool) from my mouth "She's going to go kill herself."

"Who?" she demanded, her expression changing from amusement to terror "Do you know where?"

"Chasity," I managed to choke out "But I have no clue. This is the strangest letter I've ever read. It doesn't make any sense."

"Give it," she snapped, and I gladly handed it over.

_Dear Mum and Dad. _

_It's time to say goodbye. Please, I will meet you in Canaan. There are many different roads one may take, but to travel them all would be extremely difficult. _

_Sometimes life pulls you away. Remember the Blessed Virgin Mary, mother of Christ. Though her life wasn't easy, it was her decision. She had a choice. _

_The road less traveled is always the better option, yet sometimes the norm is a comfort. _

_The dog has fleas. I'm sorry for that. _

_Chasity. _

"You're right," Emily commented lightly, folding the paper back up "That doesn't make any sense."

"I didn't realise her dog had fleas," I shuddered "Poor them."

"It`s obviously a code," she added "Canaan-"

"Described in Genesis 10," I quickly said "Sometimes referred to as 'heaven'. Often quoted in the Jewish Bible, the Tanakh. "

Emily paused, pulling back her long dark hair "Are you Jewish?"

I shook my head "Atheist. I read the Tanakh last year for fun."

"You can speak Hebrew?" she demanded, astounded. I shrugged. I could also speak French, German and Spanish "Languages are fun."

"Anyways, she wouldn't have used the termination of Canaan for anything other than to inform," I added "Chasity is…was…is Catholic."

"I'm going to take this to my team, alright?" she nodded "You should leave early."

"Okay."

"Go!"

And my shift was over! Yes! I walked into the parking lot full of sunlight, nearly skipping. Sorta sucks for Chasity though.

"Ginny!" someone called. I looked around "Ginny!"

"What?" I mumbled in response.

"For heaven's sake Ginny, you're going to be late for work! Get up! Get up!"

I opened my eyes and the realization struck me. I could not speak Hebrew. Or Spanish or German. Chasity was not missing. I have never read the Tanakh. I was not finished my shift.

It was all a dream.

One part was true though.

My incisions were bleeding.

* * *

For the next four hours, I watched Jennifer, Emily and the Garcia lady get ambushed by the Italian mobster guy, Dr. Reid and Morgan with super soakers in the parking lot as they carpooled. They came in soaking wet. Guess who got to clean up the mess. At least they were apologetic.

Chasity was completely fine.

Another Freddy died.

They sent me to do inventory because my mouth was bleeding too much.

It was also Saturday.

Why were the FBI agents now in my dreams? Like, seriously.

Why can't they have gone to another grocery store?

* * *

**Not sure bout this chapter. It was written very quickly. **

**Thanks for reading. **


	7. Chapter 7

**thanks for reading...I would really aappreciate your feedback! **

**thanks to all my readers-you guys are awesome!**

**like usual, i own nothing etc! Enjoy! **

* * *

"Just for a few hours Ginny!" Mom shouted back at me, waving her arms in frustration. We had been fighting for the past five minutes and neither was willing to give in.

"Mum, it's just not fair!" I exclaimed "why can't David and Maur take them?"

"You know very well that they can't!" She sniped "Stop being so selfish. All I need is some time to myself,"

"Mom-" I started, but she cut me off and practically threw the car keys, Joshua and Simon at me. At that is how I wound up babysitting my twin five year old half brothers for six hours on Saturday.

* * *

I arrived at Grocery Land, unbuckled their car seats and took them (dragging them by the elbows) into the store, towards the employees lounge. Since lots of the people who worked at the grocery store had kids and didn't want to pay for day care, the lounge had turned into a portable child care center. There was a fold up play kitchen (including plastic food) set up in the corner, boxes of toys and a coloring table. I went in there once to get a cup of coffee and ended up stepping on three decapitated Barbie's, several toy cars and maybe a child.

Whoops.

"Somebody in here will take care of you," i said, as kindly as possible to them. Like they were paying attention.

"Oi! Get over here!" I snapped, snagging Simon by the back of the shirt "I'll be back in a couple hours, tops."

Suddenly, uncle Harold sprinted out from the lounge, slamming the door behind him.

"You're on child care!" He gasped, holding his heart "Nolan is there with you."

Nolan.

Nolan?

Oh yah. Kelly's kid. He was a super genius or something. I once had this really strange dream about him that included a biathlon in the Olympics. It was weird, seriously.

I also had another dream where we were together, and were being chased by a herd of cats with guns and swam to Australia, only to be kidnapped by kangaroos with knives.

That was another really odd one.

"But...but! Harold, I can't do child care!" I was literally begging right now.

He gave me this really cold glare.

"Get in there Gianna," cleaning his glasses, he walked away bluntly.

Fine. How hard can it be anyways? I had four younger siblings anyways. No big deal.

I opened the door into full blown chaos.

There were no less then fifteen children, screaming and running rampant, throwing crayons and dolls at each other. There were scribbles on the walls that hadn't been there yesterday, stickers in their hair, broken toys littering the floor.

And the noise.

Good lord, my eardrums were ready to burst.

And there was Nolan, in the corner, ear buds in, doing...quantum physics?

Rule number one of babysitting is that quantum physics are not allowed.

Ever.

I ripped his ear buds out and dragged him out of the lounge, shutting the door with a resounding slam.

"Oh, hey Ginny," he said with a lopsided grin, looking slightly confused.

"You help me control those hooligans, or else I will kill you," I responded bluntly "I'm not kidding."

Apparently he believed me. Raising his arms in mock surrender, he backed away slowly.

"So," he asked in a calm, patronizing voice; I was ready to hit him "What do we do with them?"

"I don't know," I shouted, trying to control myself. For some odd reason, my emotions were completely out of whack "Children are afraid of me. I babysat once, and the minute the parents came home, the kid started screaming. My siblings hate me."

"Okay," Nolan shoved his hands in his pockets "We improvise."

"Improvise?" I repeated blankly

"We make up as we go," he explained, giving another lopsided grin. I smacked him as we walked back in the lounge together.

"Hey guys!" Nolan shouted over the din.

There was absolutely no response.

"Midgets! Look over here!" I snapped in the scariest voice I could muster. Immediately, fifteen pairs of eyes were focused on us.

"I must have a gift," I shrugged as Nolan glared.

"We're going to have a great day today!" He said cheerfully "We're going to play make believe!"

What.

The.

Heck?

Make believe?

I was going to kill him. That simple.

"What do you guys want to pretend to be today?" He asked, and immediately they all mobbed him.

"Cinderella!" A particularly bossy blond girl cried out "she married the prince and then her evil stepsisters had to do all the cleaning for her!"

Nolan gave her a grave look "do you want to know what actually happened to them?"

"What?!" She demanded, quivering and pulling her pigtails.

"We are not telling the children Brothers Grimm stories!" I whispered furiously "do you realize how morbid those things are?"

"Pirates!" One boy shouted. Soon, there was a chant of high pitched voices rooting for pirates.

"Pirates?" Nolan, for once, looked unsure.

"Don't ask me, my brothers are into knights," I responded honestly. It was true. I was rather alarmed last Halloween whenever the twins wanted to be crusaders.

"Improvise," he muttered, pulling a face.

"Arrr, ye maties, the ship is going a-sailing on the...er...rough sea, and ye all are going to be a-swabbing the deck!" Nolan stammered.

I gave him a look that hopefully translated into 'whatever the hell you are smoking, I don't want to know'. I think he understood.

"Let's go to the park," Nolan said suddenly. I had to admit, that was a good idea. The park was literally across the street and was a beautiful, wide expense of land with sand boxes, play structures and one of the round about things that you push and get injured on.

"Yes-" one look from Nolan was all I needed "ye maties, we're going on an adventure!"

* * *

In ten minutes it was settled. All fifteen children were allowed to come on our 'adventure'. We even found a rope in the supply closest for the children to hold onto crossing the street.

Going through the grocery store, I saw the Hotch FBI guy with a little boy who I soon released was his son. Hotch was on the phone and the poor kid looked bored.

In the next aisle over, I saw Emily. She started laughing whenever she saw us walking by with our children.

"What are you doing?" She questioned, incredulous.

"The kidnap are kidnapping," I muttered as Nolan burst into another stammered pirate speech "otherwise known as babysitting duty."

She laughed for another two minutes after that. Finally, wiping tears from her eyes, she stood up.

"That wasn't that funny," I said in a freaked out voice "it was a bit funny, just not that funny."

She shook her head.

"Its been a long week at work," she replied in a dull tone "I need something to cheer me up."

"Ah, so that's why Hotch is on the phone. Poor kid."

"Wait, Jack is here?" Emily asked, a glint in her eyes.

"And looks pretty bored," I responded.

Another two minutes later, Emily had a delighted looking Jack.

"Does his dad I know?" I demanded. Emily shrugged.

"He'll be okay with it. Its not like we're kidnapping him or something."

With that, we rushed off to meet up with Nolan.

* * *

And the pirates in the park honestly went better then I could ever believe. Well, the first part at least.

Emily was awesome. Like, she really got pirate slang. She had absolutely no problems with running around after children. At one point her phone started ringing.

"Hey Prentiss, its Reid," (she had it on speaker). Emily rolled her eyes.

"What do you want?" She asked in an annoyed tone.

"I have some papers that you need to look over; if you could come in that would be great-"

"Sorry Reid, what was that?" She shouted into the phone.

"Um...I asked if you could-"

"Oh no, I can't hear a word connection is breaking up. Bye." With that she snapped her phone shut, turning it off.

"You are amazing," Nolan groaned in exhaustion, only to be attacked by seven children.

Jack looked like he was having the time of his life. After awhile, we got a pack of coloured paper and Nolan made pirate hats for everyone. When everyone started getting hungry, I ran over to the grocery store and bought apples, granola bars and juice boxes.

Everything was going fantastic. We had already visited several imaginary islands and the three of us had walked the plank many, many times.

As I said, all was well.

That was, until the police showed up.

* * *

"You two!" Several officers approached, guns drawn "Hands up! On your knees! Now!"

We did as they said.

"Fuck," Nolan muttered.

Yah, I was sorta getting that vibe.

"On your stomachs! Hands on your head! Where I can see them!"

Suddenly a heavy cop painfully wrenched my hands into cuffs. Next to me, Nolan was wincing.

He grabbed my hair and pulled me up. Somewhere in the distance I heard Emily complaining in our favour. Thank goodness.

"You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?"

I stayed silent.

"Well?" He shifted impatiently.

"You told me not to say anything," I replied, my voice high and squeaky.

"Search her Lani," the officer shoved me towards a woman officer.

"She stole my child!" I saw Hotch yelling, pointing at me.

"No she didn't," Emily protested, walking up towards him "I stole him Hotch. We were having a perfectly lovely time until you showed up."

"What about the other children?" demanded one of the officers. Emily rolled her eyes.

"They had permission from all the parents. They were all from the lounge of Grocery Land, and Nolan and Ginny were just trying to make a day of it. You have nothing on these two."

"Daddy, I want to stay!" Jack said, still wearing his pirate hat. Hotch sighed and looked around.

"Fine, let them go," Hotch grumbled. Thankfully, the cuffs were undone, and we were free.

"Now, we have a job to do," Emily called out "c'mon, muster the crew! " she looked expectantly at Hotch, then shoved her hat on in a smooth gesture "ship sets sail in ten minutes!"

He looked around, then grabbed a spare hat, clambering onto the play structure.

* * *

In the end, five police officers ended up staying. Only in Quantico, Virginia could a simple game of make believe pirates end up including FBI agents and police officers.

But hey.

Maybe pirates aren't so bad after all.

It was a pretty awesome day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey! Thank you so much for reading! i cant beelive how popular this story has become-you guys are awesome!**

**Thanks for reading! please review...it honestly makes my day!**

* * *

One may wonder how hard it it to lose a toddler in a grocery store.

The simple answer-

Easier then you would imagine.

One may also wonder how difficult it would be to catch a small child with four RCMP officers, three teenagers and one completely bewildered nuclear missile engineer, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The answer:

A hell of a lot more challenging then anyone would ever believe.

* * *

For once in my life, I was grateful for a shift.

I think I may have actually cheered whenever I saw the roaster and released my name was under the Friday night shift.

My fellow colleagues looked scared, and probably were wondering if I was having a mental breakdown or something.

Apparently they were holding a betting pool on it.

I had twenty in for sometime in the next six weeks.

I was not however. It was the fact that it was Friday night, the 25th of May.

You see, this gave me an excuse to get put of annual school dance.

* * *

The annual school dance was not so much of a 'dance' as it was a chance to get drunk and hook up in the school gym. I wasn't exactly sure what the allure of a making out in the locker room was then throwing up and waking up with a massive hangover was, but it seemed to work for the majority of my class.

As one may have been able to tell, last year I spent the evening fending off drunken proposals, sipping lemonade and holding back girls hair while they puked.

Yeah, not one of my best evenings.

The lemonade was good at least.

Actually, not really.

But this year, I was at work! Yes! I think I loved the manger who made the schedule!

I wasn't exactly sure who that was.

But I loved them.

* * *

The store was quiet when I arrived at Grocery Land. Chastity and Nolan were on cash, and seemed to be the only employees in the store. They handed me a small mountain of coins to roll, so we spent the better part of an hour talking and rolling change together. It was honestly the best shift I had ever had.

After a while a woman walked in, wearing dark pants, a blue collared shirt with those shoulder pad things and one of those funny military side hat things. Her hair was short blond and curly, a silver chain swinging from her neck. She looked slightly nervous, almost lost or confused. She picked up a basket and began shopping.

"What uniform is that?" demanded Chastity aloud, making me lose count of dimes. Who paid for groceries in dimes anyways?

Darn.

Nolan squinted for several moments.

"Canadian Navy," he responded, a hint of unsureness in his voice.

"Canada?" Chastity looked awestruck.

"Canada has a navy?" that came of as more of a shock to me. Nolan rolled his eyes and ignored me.

The doors opened, revealing four men.

Even Chastity was shocked into silence.

I knew that uniform. From, like, television.

Wow.

Those jackets were a really bright shade of red.

"Are those seriously... RMPC guys?" Chastity muttered.

"RCMP," Nolan corrected "and yes."

The high riding boots, black pants with a yellow strip, bright red jackets and beige hat-real, live RCMP officers.

They spotted us and started towards the cash.

"They're coming towards us!" I hissed. Chastity smoothed her apron. Nolan picked at a hangnail, trying to not look curious.

"Hello," one of them said and I almost burst out laughing.

I had never heard a Newfoundland accent.

"North is that way," I pointed "I think you may be lost."

"You're pointing South West," he replied cheerfully "and I'm in Quantico, Virginia right?"

"Yes," Nolan responded, giving me a look that roughly translated into 'if you don't shut up now, I will honestly hurt you'.

Right. Done.

Nolan has the entire senior guys football team on his side (he's the manger and gets them to win by analyzing the hell out of statistics and applying them to their plays).

They all happen to be way bigger then me.

Plus he has Chastity on his side. Who is a proven nose breaker.

I shut up.

"Then I'm exactly were I'm supposed to be," he gave a smile "I'm looking for the ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Chastity repeated dully.

One of them (a really short guy with a mustache) rolled his eyes. I will admit, we were acting rather slow.

"Why are you in the States?" I blurted out, curiosity getting the better of me. Several raised their eyebrows at my rudeness "I mean, are you with that navy person?"

"Navy person?" The tallest officer looked bewildered. Suddenly the...well, navy person walked by.

"North is that way!" I called out, pointing and just trying to be helpful. She blinked, pausing and looking very confused.

"That's South East."

Dammit.

"We're with the Prime Minister's security delegation," the Newfie explained quickly "she's visiting with the president and wants ice cream."

"She sends her security to go get ice cream?" Nolan looked incredulous.

One of them sighed, tapping his boots on the floor "its not the weirdest thing we've ever done."

I don't want to know. I truly, honestly don't.

Chastity pointed them in the right direction, and thankfully, they happily set off.

"That was random," Nolan commented lightly.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say an uncountably clever comeback whenever the doors opened.

Revealing a freaking FBI agent.

Is there no justice?

I think I may go and haunt my attic. Or live up there at least. I'll sneak down every few months for crackers and canned soup.

That may be a bit extreme.

Just a bit.

Jennifer, the blond one had a kid with her, which I assumed was her own, unless she was actually a kidnapper after hours, which would be a bit weird. He was young, with blond hair and dressed in one of those baby sleeper things. He also was squirming. Obviously he wanted to be let loose.

She put him in her cart and started shop.

Maybe it was going to be alright.

* * *

Correction:

How could I ever think the anything that involved the FBI, RCMP, RCN and one child could end well?

After about fifteen minutes I heard a yell from produce.

"Henry!" Jennifer called, a note of panic in her voice "Henry!"

The three of us exchanged a glance and rushed towards the yells.

Jennifer was looking around, her son nowhere to be seen.

"I turned my back for just a second," she explained in a panic "He just learned how to climb... He's been climbing everything...oh no."

She continued to mutter to herself.

"Can he crawl?" Nolan asked, wincing when she nodded adamantly.

Let me just clarify-

Grocery stores are big.

Children who can climb, who are also loose and crawl are bad.

This was a recipe for disaster.

The RCMP guys rushed over, one of them clutching a tub of ice cream.

"We'll split up," the Newfie instructed "Brian, with me. George and Sam, you're going with the two ladies. You three," he pointed at us "are the third search team."

Everyone nodded, including navy person.

"He can't have gone far," reassured the officer Sam "Don't worry ma'am."

Famous last words.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were doubled over, winded, clutching our sides with cramps in the dairy section.

"How can a kid move that fast?" Chastity wheezed, her face red. We had been sprinting around, chasing Henry as he zigzagged and climbed the shelves with like, supernatural speed.

I never have moved so fast in my life, running after that kid.

The other people weren't in any better condition. One of the officers limped by, proclaiming that chasing after a child should be part of the obstacle course included in training college. The navy person had lost her funny side hat thing. Jennifer apologized to anyone she could as we rushed back and forth.

Nolan groaned, rubbing his hamstrings.

"Think we could market this as a weight lose program?" He asked. Suddenly a flash of red ran by.

"There!" George shouted, dropping the tub of ice cream. Jennifer and navy person quickly hurried to the shelves, where Henry was hanging.

"Oh no," I whispered, realization dawning on me "Shit."

"Wait...that's not-" Nolan looked equally horrified.

"It is," Chastity face palmed.

That was the shelf, that six months ago, Larry from management was supposed to fix. It's wobbly.

It also held large glass bottles of pasta sauce.

Tippy shelf plus small child plus pasta sauce equals bad. Very bad.

That thought crossed my mind as the shelf began to fall.

Blindly, I was sprinting, managing to snag Henry before going into a ballerina/football player dive, clearly the chaos of shattering pasta sauce. Unfortunately, I landed in a display of bread.

Oomph.

I never realized that baguettes were so dangerous.

"Touchdown!" Nolan called out, laughing. I muttered some very choice words in his general direction, hoping he heard.

"You saved him!" Jennifer shouted, grabbing Henry, who was innocently sucking his thumb, like nothing had ever happened.

"Ouch," was my muffled response.

Nolan and Chastity helped me out, while the officers cheered. The navy lady had gotten a small cut on her forehead from the shattered pasta jars. Other than that, everyone was fine,

I may have gotten a concussion from bread. In my opinion anyways.

I surveyed the mess of broken glass, red pasta sauce and broken shelf.

"Do we actually have to clean this up?" I groaned. Both Chastity and Nolan pulled a face while Jennifer winced.

"I have a better idea," replied Newfie officer, smiling "C'mon,"

* * *

"Why did we not think of this before?" Navy person, who's name was actually Libby. She took a bite of her blizzard, looking blissful.

"Agreed," Sinclair or Newfie guy replied, taking a handful of fries from the center of the table. On the booth table of Dairy Queen we had laid out jumbo sizes of French fries and onion rings, and everyone had their own blizzard.

I was in heaven. Ice cream. And we didn't have to clean up the mess left in the grocery store. We all decided that the the oblivious approach was the best. Mostly cause nobody had a shift tomorrow, and they would probably assume it collapsed overnight.

And if Uncle Harold had a problem with that, he would just have to talk to the President of the United States. And Prime Minister of Canada. And four RCMP officers, one Canadian nuclear missile tech and one FBI agent who was currently feeding her son ice cream with a spoon.

That's right. I spent my Friday night eating ice cream with several powerful government officials.

* * *

Monday morning, the school was abuzz with chatter as I shoved books into my locker. Lily, one of my distant friends drifted over to me.

"You should have come!" She squealed "the dance was, like, so much fun!"

"Yah?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Of course! You had work though. That's right!" She pulled a sympathetic face "how was that?"

Just then, Nolan walked by, carrying an enormous chemistry textbook. He caught my eye and we both choked down laughter.

"You know, work," I managed to say.

* * *

**Thanks for reading-tell me what you think! I know that Canada's Prime Minister is currently not female, but creative liberty right?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Well, here is chapter nine! I hope everyone enjoys, and reviews! Thanks**

**Thanks again to everyone wo reads, reviews, favs, follows etc. You guys are the best! **

**Again I don't own anything (Risk included)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Each year, the school I attended ran a program where students go to a workplace for a day, to _inspire _their careers. Since most people (myself including) don't have a freaking clue, it's a bit of a waste. I personally believe it's a ploy for teachers to put their feet up for a day.

Anyways, they always hand out these generic forms which ask what you want to be. Last year I wrote Olympic weightlifter. My form was handed back with a sarcastic 'ha ha' and I literally got locked in a room at a local bank branch.

I made paper clip chains the whole day.

This year however, I was determined to not get put in a windowless room the whole day. The problem was, I had no idea what to put for 'future career'.

So what do I do?

I put government official. This is Quantico, Virginia right? There are a whole pile of officials all over the city.

I mean _everywhere_. You can't go three feet without running into someone clad in a suit with a briefcase.

Seriously. My own mother works for the government.

However, by some random act of fate, the workplace chosen for me was:

(Dramatic drumroll please)

The FBI headquarters. Behaviour Analysis Unit.

Currently I'm feigning a gun to my head right now. Just so you know.

The bullpen was quiet whenever I walked in through the glass doors on the Wednesday, visitor pass clipped to my shirt. There was Reid, going through some massive book and Jennifer sleepily downing coffee at a desk. Other than that, it was quiet.

Suddenly, the intimating Hotch marched up to me.

"Gianna?" he questioned, reading from a memo, not recognizing me. I cringed, waiting for it. It wouldn't be long now.

"Wait a second…?"

He turned a fantastic shade of magenta, his face priceless and easily reading _'__oh right. You're that girl I almost arrested for sort of not kidnapping my son. No hard feelings though!'_

"Hi," I awkwardly said, doing a wave. He coughed while I focused on the nearby clock. Only nine more hours of this!

"Erm…why don't you meet the other agents?" he offered, squirming on the spot. Coward.

I followed him into the bullpen.

"Guys, I want to introduce-"

"Hey Ginny," Jennifer called, resting her head on a massive pile of paperwork while Reid waved.

"How's Henry?" I asked in response. She smiled back cheerfully.

Hotch face palmed.

"Okay, well we have another student coming in today-I think you two will probably spend a lot of the time together. It'll be easier for us that-"Hotch trailed off as a woman power walked into the bullpen, a figure dragging behind her.

"Strauss," he greeted, sounding less than enthusiastic.

She completely disregarded his comment. Loser. This woman had confidence.

"This is my nephew Nolan," she said, gesturing towards they lanky person behind her.

Wait a minute.

Nolan as in, Nolan Nolan?"

Sure enough it was Nolan. My grocery store buddy. Physics king extraordinaire.

This day was beginning to look up.

"Nephew?" asked Reid to the Strauss lady, breaking the awkward silence "There are _more _of you?"

She gave him a glare that has probably killed before. Seriously.

"Sorry," he mumbled, continuing to consume his book.

"You two," she addressed us "Will be _good_. No interfering with the agents work. That means you stay out of the offices and the bullpen."

"Aye Aye!" Nolan snapped into a salute to his aunt. He flattered under her lethal gaze "I mean…referring to the lemur, a strepsirrhine primate native to Madagascar. You know?"

"Of course!" Reid looked enthusiastic "Though it does have rodent like teeth, its special feature is actually its thin middle finger that actually fills the same ecological niche as a woodpecker," he does this weird half laugh half giggle thing.

Only eight hours and fifty six minutes left!

Screw. My. Life.

* * *

Ten minutes later we are ushered from the bullpen to a storage closest in the basement by the computer tech lady, who has large parrots hanging from her earlobes. Is this weird? Apparently not because _every other freaking agent doesn't seem to notice that she is wearing them!_

Insanity leads to over drama right? Right. Are conversations with me being the only one talking also normal?

I rubbed my temples with my fingers.

I think I need a straightjacket.

"I'm sorry my loves," she whispers, shoving a box into my hands "I'll let you out. Later."

Parrot earing lady literally shoves us into the room and locks it.

Did I get this correct? We have just been locked in a basement filing room with a box that contains…

I consult what it says.

Risk.

Global Domination. With those little army guys.

A board game. One that I always lose at.

Why couldn't she have given us Clue? Or Monopoly?

"At least it's not Jumangi, right?" Nolan cracks a smile. I have the sudden urge to punch him "C'mon Gin, there's still a whole day. Let's just have one game."

"My games of Risk always end up in nuclear destruction," I wail "It's not fair!"

"Nuclear destruction?" Nolan looks a bit freaked out.

"You'll find out," I reply, taking the lid off "I'm blue."

* * *

Three hours later, J.J looked around the almost empty bullpen, her eyes flitting from Reid, who was filling out paperwork with freakish vigour to Morgan, who had arrived late, brandishing an extra-large coffee and receiving eye rolls from Hotch. Both he and Strauss were in their offices and Garcia was in her lair. J.J had no idea where the hell Emily was. Probably buying another Freddy.

She then realised that their two students were nowhere to be seen. In fact, she hadn't seen them since they went into Garcia's office. Like three hours ago.

She frowned. Though the computer tech was a bit…_special, _holding teenagers hostage wasn't really her style.

Which lead to the next question:

Where were Ginny and Nolan?

Despite Ginny's obvious distaste for agents, and her knack of drawing them wherever she went, Jennifer had grown fond of the door greeter. She was a familiar face at a very intimating store. Albeit one generally seen cowering under desks or bleeding from her mouth, she was still someone with a good sense of humour and who didn't mind bending the rules.

"Hey Morgan," she called "Have you seen the two students there?"

He shrugged, not looking too concerned. However, both Reid and Emily (who had returned, holding a clear plastic bag filled with water) began to mirror her worry.

"Should we look for them?" demanded Reid. Jennifer gasped.

"Shit!" she exclaimed "Nolan is Strauss's nephew!"

"And?" Morgan rolled his eyes.

"And, if we _lost _him, then what happens to us? They could be dead or something."

"I agree," Emily nodded, carefully placing Freddy #37 in her desk drawer "We should look."

"I bet you, they're probably either with Strauss or Garcia," Morgan grumbled "We're wasting our time."

* * *

Two hours later, Reid and Morgan were panicking and J.J. and Prentiss were on the verge of hysteria, fearing mostly for their jobs.

They had officially lost two students.

"Men, it is time," Morgan declared in a sober tone as they regrouped outside the bathrooms "To call in the cavalry."

"Cavalry?" Reid questioned, in a dubious voice. Morgan nodded curtly.

"Hotch."

* * *

"Fuck!" I cried out as the stupid red dice landed on another one "Fuck, I hate this miserable game!"

Currently I owned one territory, which was surrounded on all sides with tanks. Nolan was laughing at my anger because he had the best freaking luck ever.

"Nuclear bomb!" I shouted, and wiped all the players off the board, crossing my arms after doing that.

"Isn't that kind of immature?" Nolan looked mildly amused "I mean, you're getting kind of competitive."

Kind of competitive?

Was he serious?

I was going to throttle him.

"You can't always win!" I exclaimed, sounding very much like my seven year old sister "Let's go again!"

'Are you sure?" Nolan sounded slightly afraid "I mean, it's just a game."

"You are on," I muttered, lining up my little army guys "You are _so _on."

He shrugged, and placed his on the board "Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

"Look Hotch, you gotta help," Prentiss begged "Pretty please?"

"With whipped cream and sprinkles," Morgan added.

"And a cherry on top," J.J begged desperately.

He held up his hands, silencing them "Fine," he sighed "One can only take so much pleading. We'll organize a full search of the building. I'll inform Strauss."

"NO!" they all shouted at once.

'We mean," J.J stumbled over her words "We don't want her know-I mean she really shouldn't…um…she shouldn't be stressed."

"Right," Morgan confirmed, nodding adamantly "Strauss is _such_ an overwhelmed women. Doing all that…that FBI…stuff. Files and things."

"Stuff," Reid echoed.

Hotch hid his laughter. Like he would _actually _tell Strauss. It was just hilarious to watch his agents cover their tails like bumbling teenagers caught in the act of sneaking in past curfew.

"Let's get started," he said, serious again "We should consider all possibilities, including kidnapping and or murder."

They nodded again and dispersed.

* * *

Strauss watched as the agents cleared the bullpen, grabbed her bag and summoned Garcia, who looked nervous.

"Ma'am, are you sure this is necessary?" the tech demanded in a quivering tone "I mean, Hotch is…well Hotch. I don't think he'll want a big deal made out on his behalf…and looking those poor children in the basement...it was a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"I am quite sure," Strauss responded curtly "Besides, those agents wouldn't leave unless they had the chance to play hero. Now, hand me that crepe paper."

* * *

The agents snuck down into the basement, in full FBI grab, guns included.

"Listen!" Morgan whispered and they silenced.

"It can't end this way!" Ginny screamed out in anguish "You can't do this to me!" loud laughter followed.

Jennifer covered her mouth with a hand, shocked "They have them!"

"Move in," Hotch instructed, and they all fell into position.

"Dammit!" Ginny cried again, her voice coming from a locked storage room. The agents exchanged a glance, and Hotch nodded.

"FBI!" Morgan shouted, kicking in the door "Hands up!"

* * *

My first thought was 'why are the FBI here?' This was quickly disregarded due to the fact that we were in an FBI building. Both Nolan and I threw our hands up in the air.

I dropped the dice and they landed on doubles sixes.

"Fuck!" I shouted again, into the silence. The agents exchanged bewildered looks while Nolan began to laugh.

"Why does this game hate me?" I sobbed, completely losing it.

"It's true-she has the worst luck I've ever seen," Nolan added in a cheerful tone "I may have something to do with her being a bit competitive."

"I am _not_ competitive!" I shrieked "The game hates me."

"Wait…you're not being held hostage?" Emily demanded. We shook our heads "Why are you playing _Risk _in a storage closest?"

"Garcia locked us in here about eight this morning," Nolan explained "We had a great time."

The agents looked at me, where I was currently tearing out my hair and sobbing.

"I was anyways," Nolan shrugged.

"Wait," Reid interrupted, sounding incredulous "We just spent the last four hours searching for people who aren't actually lost?"

"It depends on your definition of lost," Nolan replied. Morgan groaned.

"Let's just get back to the bullpen? Okay?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, and the troop headed upstairs.

"By the way, the game _was_ rigged," Nolan said to me, hanging behind the agents "It was a gag set. The defenders dice you were using only had ones on it."

It's official. I'm getting my gun license, _then _going to the local asylum. Sorry Nolan.

* * *

When everyone arrived upstairs, the bullpen was completely dark.

"What the he-" Morgan started whenever the lights switched on, revelling the bullpen decorated in crepe paper, balloons and no less than twenty agents, all clapping and wearing party hats.

"Happy birthday Hotchner!" they shouted.

Hotch blinked once and smiled.

Suddenly Garcia hurried up to us, her parrots swinging "I am so sorry sir," she gushed "I mean, Strauss told me and I couldn't defy orders…I _really _didn't want to lock up the children…are you going to fire me?"

"Of course not," Hotch winced at the bone crushing hug he received from her.

"It's your birthday Hotch?" Jennifer demanded, flabbergasted. Strauss marched up them.

"Yes, it is. We needed you all distracted, so we hid the students so we would have time to decorate," she addressed the general group "And agent Hotchner-"

"Yes Strauss?"

"Happy birthday."

* * *

**There you go! Chapter nine-I hope you enjoy...please review! Thanks**


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors Note: **

**usual disclaimers apply! I don't own anything etc.**

**Thank you so much to all who have reviewed, favourite, fallowed or simply read. You guys make my day.**

**Please enjoy!**

I am quite sure that in the city of Quantico, Virginia, there is someone who has a little Ginny doll. In which they poke needles in and perform curses on.

I mean, obviously I've tried voodoo. Of course it never worked (Courtney was absolutely fine, much to my disappointment).

However, I have a theory that it may be my locker buddy, Angela. We have a simple system-she and one of her many boyfriends make out on my locker, and in return I spill rancid, week old hot chocolate on her head (and dear Lord, did it ever reek! I stayed in my room in a fetal position for several days).

The point is, we...ahem, strongly dislike each other.

I don't understand why she hates me...I mean, in no way do I threaten her sense of superiority and queen beeiness. Seriously, what did I ever do to her?

I'm an angry, cynical loner. Honestly.

I was voted most likely to blow up the world by age twenty in grade nine.

I wear size seven jeans, for crying out loud. I eat like a rhino. Angela on the other hand, cuts, counts and kills calories, and her ribs could be used from a xylophone underneath a thick sweater.

Maybe one day, we'll have a heart to heart, hug, and forgive each other and become lifelong friends. It would be a pivotal moment in our lives!

Yah.

I'll just watch the pigs fly by while riding a unicorn until that happens.

Point is, we hate each other.

With a passion.

Which is why, on Saturday morning, when I saw that Chastity had been moved off door greeting, and Angela had replaced her, I threw a small temper tantrum in a telephone booth for five minutes before recomposing myself, while wondering where I could find a nice, eighty foot high suspension bridge I could jump off was.

"So what do we even do?" Angela batted her artificially long eyelashes.

"You greet customers. Hence door greeters." A houseplant had more of an IQ then her. Jeez.

"Aren't you a bit of an odd choice? I mean, you have to talk to people. Be social. Try and have a life," she simpered, her tone mocking.

I clenched my fists.

"My life, or lack thereof is none of the customers business," I snapped "Hand out your coupons quietly."

"Oh. I forgot. Ginny Mathewson and her bustling social skills," Angela raised an eyebrow "A model to us all. In her C cup, of course!"

Okay, that doesn't even make sense. How the heck does my bra size pertain to my social life at all? Unless I was a prostitute, which I'm not. Besides, Angela's feeble attempt at sarcasm is laughable. Except I don't laugh cause it's not funny.

See, I'm going crazy.

Fuck my life.

* * *

I managed to drown out Angela and how she is better than me for the better part of an hour while we handed out coupons to customers.

This was, until she mentioned my dad.

Nobody ever mentioned him.

Like ever.

I was practically shaking with anger, every ounce of me restraining my temper. Any second longer and I'd kill her.

Suddenly Prentiss walked in.

For once in my life, I was glad to know an FBI agent. Actually someone with a gun. I would have taken anybody. Had Annie Oakley walked through those doors I wouldn't have objected.

"Agent! Agent Prentiss!" I exclaim, cutting off Angela "I have that rain check for you!"

"Rain check?" She looked bewildered.

"Yah! Come with me! The one with the soup and...and sesame seeds. And...pirates." I literally dragged her by the arm into the employee's only area. I sat down. Leaning against a wall, I held my fingers to my temples, trying to calm down.

"Is everything alright?" She asked in a concerned tone of voice "If not, can I leave? I need cat food."

"Sorry. That struck a nerve," I replied, calming down. Zen mode "I was going to hurt her. Seriously."

"What was she talking about?" Prentiss asked with interest, still staring at me with concern.

I sighed loudly, trying to collect my thoughts.

"My dad," I responded finally "it's a bit of a tough subject."

She raised her eyebrows, not sarcastically like Angela, but in unbelieving way "I had an abortion at fifteen. I'm an expert at tough subjects."

I stayed silent.

"Look, you don't have to talk," she urged, and then pursed her lips, changing gears "Why don't you like her?"

I gave a small laugh.

"She's a bitch," I replied without hesitating.

"Well, I'm glad you're not generalizing," Prentiss rolls her eyes.

I sighed again.

"We hate each other. I dunno, she's always had something against me. Maybe I stole her boyfriend without ever realising. One of them anyways," I laughed again.

"Shit," Prentiss gasped as I finish "She was listening."

"Please say you're joking," I whimpered. I was not one of courage and bravery. Running and hiding in a closest somewhere was more my style.

"Nope," Prentiss gave me an arm up "Keep your head up kid."

"Or go cower in a hole," I responded sarcastically.

I didn't make eye contact with Angela for the rest of my shift, and didn't talk to anybody until my break. In the lounge, after almost trampling a child, I went to the mini fridge and take out my bottle of water. Since mom was on an eco-kick right now it was one of reusable ones, which I hated. It felt much more hygienic to break open a plastic seal before drinking.

Immediately I feel funny after taking a sip, but shrugged it off and proceed to drink the whole bottle. Nolan came in as I wiped my mouth.

"You okay Gin?" he asked as I stared at me "You look a bit odd."

My head was doing some really strange things right now. Everything was brightly coloured and neon. I blinked again, trying to clear my vision, but failing.

"You look funny Nolan," I said, as a wave of light-headedness came over me. I began giggling "Nolan. Nolan, Nolan. Nolan. Nooooolannn," I said in a high pitched voice, giggling uncontrollably "You're Nolan!"

"What the hell?" he asked, coming towards me "What has gotten into you Ginny? Are you okay?"

"Are you okay?" I repeated, still laughing to the point of tears "I'm a squirrel!"

He looked utterly confused until a flicker of realisation came over his face.

"Wait a second—are you _high_?" Nolan demanded in a shocked tone, grabbing my wrist. He counted as I was in hysterics, doubled over.

"What did you—" he eyes fall on my empty water bottle, and he gingerly picked it up "Ginny, did you take drugs? Like intentionally?"

"Sméagol good!" I responded in a chipmunk voice, while watching purple bubbles float by "Sméagol good!"

Nolan muttered a string of very choice words beneath his breath.

"Bloody fantastic. We've moved onto Lord of the Rings impressions," he shook his head "C'mon Ginny. I have some very nice agents who would _love _to talk to you."

* * *

After that point, I actually had no recollection of the incidents that occurred. I was in a very strange, hallucinated state.

Nolan made sure to explain everything to me:

It was mostly fate that all Prentiss, Morgan, Hotch, Reid and J.J were in the grocery store at the same time. While chatting in the frozen foods aisle, they spotted a figure practically dragging another towards them.

"Strauss's nephew?" demanded Hotch in a confused tone as he could see both of us properly "What…?"

"Ginny?" both Prentiss and J.J exclaimed in unison, flabbergasted.

"Butterflys!" I started to yell, reaching at the air "Flutterbys!"

They exchanged a shared look.

"Get them away from me," I sobbed suddenly, dropping down in the aisle "Get them away! They're taking my hair! Give it back!"

"Is she _tripping_?" Reid asked with interest "It looks like acid, almost"

"I'm not sure what it's supposed to be," explained Nolan, as I continued to wave off imaginary butterflies "But this isn't good."

"No kidding," Morgan swore, watching me "This is a sick joke."

"I have some ideas who may have done it," Prentiss had a dark look in her eyes "She and another employee here have a grudge."

"To the point of _this_?" Hotch looked incredulous.

Meanwhile, I was pretending to swim in the aisle, attempting to get away from the butterflies, muttering about leprechauns.

Weird. Why do so many of my hallucinations include mythical green bearded Irish guys?

Anyways.

"C'mon Nolan, Morgan, help her up," Hotch instructed "Let her sleep it off somewhere."

"I looove you Giraffe!" I shouted "Goodbye my friends...run away! Be free!"

Yah, nobody was really sure what or who I was referring to.

They hauled me into the lounge and plunked me onto the couch.

I fell asleep immediately.

* * *

And that was my first ever acid trip.

Angela was fired. She confessed.

I still, to this day, am trying out which agent I was referring to with giraffes.

Mental note: Don't ever do drugs. I've seen enough leprechauns to last a lifetime.

* * *

**Okay, a bit strange I know. This was inspired by an episode of House that I vaguely remember. It was hilarious.**

**Anyways, how did everyone like the new season? I think they have a strong beginning, and honestly (please don't shoot me) I like the character that Jennifer Love Hewitt plays. I know a lot of people don't, but I think she's a valuable edition. and much better then Alex Blake, and just fits in better. Plus she isn't a size two model, which is sorta cool as well. Well, to people like me, who are not 'fat' but no size twos. **

**Sorry for that mini monologue. What did you guys think? Please review! Thanks**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay…some of this chapter is inspired by real life events. Like getting my foot stuck in a storm drainage cover and falling into the middle of a street. **

**Usual disclaimers apply…you guys understand by now! **

**Again, thank you to everyone who reviews, reads, follows, favourites etc! You guys are fantastic and the reason I keep writing! Thank you so much for your support. **

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Honestly, I should probably be dead right now. Actually most definitely.

So that gives me two options:

1) Give myself up to death, accept my fate and die honourably, finally coming to peace with the elements that have been trying to do me in.

2) Cower underneath a mattress in case of a piano falling on top of my head.

I swear it's like that Nickelback video. You know the song 'Savin me' and the guy sees the numbers on top of people's heads? Well my number probably goes back and forth all the time because someone in the universe is trying to kill me.

Or cause serious injury...whatever.

It's the same thing, okay?

Point is, I really shouldn't be alive right now. I must have been born with crossed stars or something. Not in the way of Fault in Our Stars, with cancer or anything like that, but in the way that if something stupid was going to be done, it would be me.

The hot chocolate incident of grade nine comes to mind.

You don't want to know. Trust me.

I make stupid mistakes and that's all there is to it. I put Roman numerals in molecular compounds. I put m's instead of s's. I'm an idiot and that's just reality.

Okay, an idiot who seems to attract falling pianos, and other heavy objects. And trains and boats and missiles and...oh for gods sake!

* * *

June 1st marks an important day in my mind for two reasons.

It was the day where I broke a personal record of near misses with death (six in four hours).

It also is the day that I became somebody someone respected. Namely because I singlehandedly caught a serial killer.

By myself.

Unarmed.

It was pretty cool.

Anyways, it was a Tuesday, which meant I was in school, physical education class, todays activity orienteering.

For anyone who doesn't know, that's using a compass to find bearing and stuff. Our teacher put us in groups, gave us a paper full of riddles and let us loose.

And as you guessed, it took, oh, about three minutes to become completely lost.

Honestly, who lets teenagers loose with compasses? Who even uses compasses anymore?

Anyways, we were walking down some random street, and decided to cross, thinking that there was no traffic. Well, we were wrong.

Like eighteen wheeler wrong.

Yeah.

Of course, I got my foot stuck in a storm drainage grate—you know the things in roads that allow water to drain? And of course I did a forward fall—face first. The ground has no sympathy apparently.

And my foot was majorly stuck.

So here we were, struggling to get my foot out of the drainage thing, and an eighteen wheeler comes barreling down the hill.

There is absolutely no chance that he would see me in time and stop. None whatsoever.

A hundred metres away, and still drawing closer. Meanwhile, I'm sprawled out on the street.

Not a good situation.

And boom! Out of nowhere, alpha guy Morgan bounded out, grabbed me and pulled me out of harm's way as the eighteen wheeler roared by.

Near death situation number one—check.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed as I untwisted my foot from the grate "You came from nowhere!"

"Yah, falling from the sky is really my style," he smirked.

Yeah, it was then I realised I had fallen outside of the FBI building, where my team of profilers were located.

Oh.

And we continued on our way.

* * *

Three hours later, we were somewhere.

That was all I knew.

Hopefully still in Virginia. That would be good. Heck, even the United States would make my day. For all I knew, Becca, Cassie and I had somehow travelled to Siberia. I honestly wasn't sure.

In this time, I had almost been hit on the head by a falling metal filing cabinet (don't even ask, I have no _idea _where it came from) and was missed by half an inch, like the cartoons. The only reason I hadn't been smushed was because I turned around to pick up a quarter. It whizzed right past me, where I would have been standing.

Luck?

As well, I had narrowly avoided a train (the bars weren't even down!), gotten pushed into a path of oncoming cars and did a gymnastic move comparable to that of an Olympic champion to get out of the way (and got offered a position on a competitive team), and fell down a flight of stairs that probably should have broken my neck, but didn't.

Yay.

And we were still lost.

Woohoo.

Another hour later, I turned to Becca and Cassie, who looked as miserable and tried as I was.

"Let's start knocking on doors," I suggested hopelessly "And hope for the best."

The phrase 'hope for the best' hadn't been doing too much for me lately.

This is why at the first house I knocked on the door, I got dragged in.

Okay, wrist and ankle shackles are so not cool. Plus they sorta hurt. Becca and Cassie were probably freaking out right now. Actually I was too. You see, the guy who had pulled me inside and drugged me with some substance had been on the news yesterday as a serial rapist/murderer of teenage girls.

The only thought that came to my head was 'uh oh'.

I was getting freaking kidnapped and all I can think of is 'uh oh'? What is wrong with me?

God.

It was just one of those days.

The guy, Larry Knight, was the most awful swelling person I have ever come across. He was all around gross, with a long, wild beard and beady little eyes. Actually, he looked a bit like Hagrid from Harry Potter. He also had the most disguising smile, like, ever.

I mean seriously! Has he never heard of a dentist? Or toothpaste?

Or, you know, basic hygiene?

….

Right.

Point was, I had had five run-ins with death so far today, and it wasn't even three o'clock yet. I could get through this.

"Excuse me," I exclaimed, making him jump. He turned and scowled.

"What do you want girl?" he demanded roughly "I'm not ready for you yet."

"Look, can you please just untie me while you finish your level of Candy Crush? You suck at it, by the way." I rolled my eyes and he flamed pink, quickly hiding the phone behind his back.

"I think I'm m ready for you now," he seethed, his Georgian accent oddly displaced in Virginia.

"Good. I've had a really rotten day. So if you could please murder me quickly, it would be a wonderful favour."

He chuckled, his whole enormous belly shaking. I stared straight ahead wishing I could communicate with my brain. So far, my plan was…er…backfiring. Reverse phycology, y'know?

Reverse phycology sucks. It never works anyways.

"If that's what you want, _Ginny_," he drew out the syllables. For once I was scared. How on earth did this guy know my name? Had he been stalking me? Planning this whole thing?

Then I saw my student card on the table.

Aha. He was a smart one, wasn't he?

He slowly undid the shackles one by one. Then he tried to pin me to the wall. Never had I been that close to a guy, and I certainly wasn't enjoying it.

_Wham_! My knee connected with his stomach, and he dropped. Thank goodness for that self-defence class mum made me take.

While he was withering on the ground in pain, I may as well enjoy this. Make him pay for what he did to those other girls.

Pressure points are awesome, by the way.

When the FBI arrived, they heard horrible screams of agony, even from outside the house, and exchanged glances of shock. They were too late. The poor girl, whoever she was. They had been called in with reports that their unsub had caught yet another teen.

"FBI" Morgan shouted, kicking down the door, Hotch, Reid, Rossi and J.J following "Nobody move!"

"Mercy!" wailed Larry Knight as they approached, bewildered "Mercy!"

Ginny had him in a headlock, he thumb jammed under his chin. She seemed to be thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Hey guys," she said casually, as though she was back in the grocery store "Do you guys have any idea where Hawthorne Road High is?"

"You're way off," Reid replied "You have to travel almost 25 kilometers south, then west for 13 k…"

"Reid!" Hotch and Morgan shouted at the same time "Ginny, let go of the unsub."

"Gladly," she replied, throwing him towards them. He willingly got arrested.

"That girl is _crazy_," he said, wheezing "Bonkers. You should lock her up!"

"We'll be the judge of who we lock up," J.J sniped "Ginny, you okay?"

"No harm done," she responded in a cheerful tone.

* * *

In the end, harm was done—to Larry Knight at least. He received three broken ribs and a fractured nose as a result. I got my picture in the newspaper even.

And I also gained the respect of many. Apparently it isn't easy to take down a serial killer. But hey…after almost dying, like, six times in one day, serial killers don't seem too bad.

Maybe my stars were crossed, or screwed, or non-existent. I had survived another day of FBI agents and other adventures in Quantico, Virginia.

I was on top of the world! I wasn't tripping on acid! I wasn't talking like a pirate! This was good!

I, Ginny, was doing fantastic!

We still failed the assignment by the way.

Darn teacher. That's it. My one minute of elation and positive energy evaporated. Back to being cynical. It was so much easier that way.

* * *

**So what did everyone think? Please review, and thanks for reading! It means a lot! **


	12. Chapter 12

**a bit of a different one...i was really tiried when i wrote this one! **

I dont own anything, like usual!

Thank you so much to all my loyal reasders, reviewers etc! Thanks you!

* * *

Recipe for probable nuclear apocalypse or other event that will cripple humanity:

-several FBI agents (of the BAU variety )

-One grocery store greeter (who may throw herself underneath a bus in order to preserve her sanity)

-Jalapeño cream cheese pops

-Goats

No more needs to be said.

And no, it was not a bad a dream. It was not some alternate time universe paradox thing. I was not hallucinating, tripping or having my mind messed with in anyway.

I mean, I could explain my government conspiracy theory right now but that would probably be a major waste of time. Either that or I'll get kidnapped. So I'll stay quiet.

The point remains however.

That's what my Saturday morning shift involved.

I'm still in therapy, rest assured.

* * *

My story begins with one brilliant genius in management of Grocery Land who came up with some bloody brilliant idea to do samples of food at every aisle. Smart idea right? A chance to showcase new products. More money. Impulse buys.

Yah, all fine and dandy on paper until you get innocent door greeters cooking stuff like pig's ears at six in the morning.

Yah.

Not a good morning.

Anyways, this particular Saturday I was sorta freaking out. Exams were coming up way quicker then I anticipated, and I was going over power rules of calculus while preparing mini tofu sandwiches and pigs in blankets. This order may have been reversed to mini pig sandwiches and tofu blankets, which meant that it all had to be remade, and I was thrown on door greeting.

Freaking Nolan and his perfect power rules and sandwich blankets, or whatever the hell they were supposed to be.

So door greeting went as normal as anything ever goes in Quantico, which is pretty much nil. Seriously though, it was slow. Some parents and old people, that's about it. I handed out coupons and tried to keep my eyes open. I had been cramming chemistry last night. Okay, and watched cat videos, but the intent of chemistry was there.

Suddenly (how I hate the word) Reid and Prentiss ran in, wheezing, wearing awful matching pink shirts.

Normal morning.

Right.

"We need-" Prentiss doubled over, dying "we need jalapeño cream cheese poppers."

Actually it looked like she needed a defibrillator more, but I wasn't going to argue.

"We have them frozen..." I started but Nolan cut me off, making me jump. Darn kid.

"We actually have some prepared if you want to sample," he gave his best charming Nolan smile and offered the agents the deep fried poppers.

"What happened to the tofu pigs?" I asked. He ignored my question, which meant that the back room was probably on fire or something.

"Why the heck do you need to get jalapeño...things?" I asked bewildered as they eagerly shoved them in a bag.

"FBI city wide scavenger hunt," Reid explained quickly "thanks!"

And like that they were gone, sprinting out the exit.

I'm pretty sure my mouth is still hanging open.

* * *

The next group in was Morgan and Hotch, which was an interesting combination. They spent twenty minutes in the frozen aisle, arguing about what brand to buy. They finally settled on pizza pockets, not jalapeño poppers, but honestly, I wasn't going to point it out.

Then Rossi and Garcia, which made for an entertaining few minutes. Both of them had such...unique personalities. Rossi was obviously the leader with Garcia tagging along, tapping on her phone, her high heels clicking away. Honestly, I was impressed that she was doing a city wide scavenger hunt in six inch cheetah pumps, and a hat similar to Bob Marley's. Minus the dreadlocks.

"What is the purpose of this exactly?" I asked Rossi as he pulled sour his credit card. He shrugged.

"According to Strauss, it's a team building exercise to each the values of cooperation and fair play. My guess is that they're attempting to clean the bullpen."

I just stared.

"Reid, Morgan and Prentiss are notorious for their housekeeping. Reid has a souvenir pen from every hotel we've ever been stayed at during a case."

"That's not weird," I responded, rolling my eyes. Rossi nodded.

"Morgan takes the soap," he said, completely serious "All the soap. Unopened or not. It's all in one of his desk drawers. Strauss keeps on getting angry calls from managers."

"He hoards soap?"

"That's not the worst of it. Prentiss is attempting to perform an experiment with a MacDonald's burger at her desk," Rossi chuckled.

Why did I ask? Just...why?

"It's moved two inches in the last six months." He added in a thoughtful voice "Maybe it was three."

I am officially never, ever going to MacDonald's again. Or the FBI building. Or anywhere near the two.

"I have them!" Garcia exclaimed, shuffling over, holding a large box of frozen jalapeño pops"We must flee, my Italian complice, because it had come to my attention that we are behind everyone else, and we cannot lose because I really can't bare facing Morgan and..."

My brain stopped processing at Italian complice. Actually, it was several months ago, if I counted correctly.

She trailed off looking at her phone screen "Wait a second...that's strange."

"What?" I asked, considering curling up in the fetal position on the floor.

"Hotch and Morgan and sprinting back this way. They'll be here any minute."

"Maybe they realized their mistake." Nolan suggested from behind us. I rolled my eyes, just as the two men flat out sprinted through the automatic doors, gasping.

"GOATS!" Morgan shouted "Take cover!" He dove into a nearby display.

Wait, are we talking about the farm animal with cute ears? Or, like, some acronym for something disastrous.

Two seconds later, it was confirmed.

There were six goats.

Loose.

In Grocery Land.

Actual, live goats. Bleating and clicking their hoofs on the tile floor as they galloped around, sending terror all through the store. People screamed and clamored towards the exits. It was honestly unhinged chaos.

The goats were cute though. They had floppy ears.

However, because of these goats, guess who good to try and round them up? Well, Nolan, me and the goat keeper that came in a minute later, sweating buckets and apologizing to anyone who would listen.

Yeah.

Hoarding goats was so not in the job description. Especially with armed FBI officers cowering behind the displays.

Apparently Morgan has an irrational fear of...goats.

Aha. Right.

This leads to the question-why the heck were there goats lose in a large city? Turns out the goat keeper was an animal control guy who was removing them from the backyard of a home (and no, I have no freaking clue why anyone would keep goats in their back yard) and accidentally got lose when the hinge wasn't done up correctly. They saw Morgan and Hotch run by, started chasing after them and both grown men overreacted to the four legged vegetarian hay eaters who were playfully running after them.

Why did two men, with guns and years of FBI experience with serial killers and stuff like that run away from goats?

I don't understand.

Actually I was beginning to feel that I was in an alternate time universe parallel or something along those lines.

It wasn't good.

And in the end, it turned out that the 'team building exercise' was indeed an excuse to clean out the bullpen of all soap, pens and six month old hamburgers. The goats weren't supposed to happen.

And the mammals were returned safely to the animal sanctuary, Morgan and Hotch were in group therapy together for the foreseeable future, and all was well.

Well, except I was losing my mind and sanity.

And Nolan asked me to coffee.

That was a really weird Saturday.

I'm starting to see Morgan's aversion to goats. I had nightmares about them last night.

Oh dear.

Padded cell for me! Woohoo!

* * *

**thanks for reading, please take the time to review! :)**


	13. Anothors note

This isn't an update, just so everyone knows.

I'm sure some people have heard about the shooting in Ottawa today on our national Cenotaph that commemorates the Tob Of The Unknown Soilder. This incident left one member of the military dead and another hurt. Likewise, on Tuesday another member of our military was hit by a car purposely and killed and left another RCM member in hospital.

Please pray and keep Ottawa, St. Jean de Richlaleau and all of Canada in your thoughhts. It has been a black week here.


	14. Chapter 14

**So in honour of Halloween, here is a themed chapter! It's quite fluffy, I hope nobody minds!**

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed for the last two chapter (authors note). It really means a lot, so thank you to everyone who did so! :)**

**Chapter thirteen! this is a point I never imagined would happen and I want to thank everyone who has supported me so far! **

**Happy Halloween! **

* * *

Quite frankly, the IQ of the establisher of Halloween is up there (or should I say down?) with the people who created 'National speak like a pirate day' or 'national pig day'.

I get it, the origin is from the bible, preparing everyone for All Saints and All Souls day. But whoever commercialised it and allowed teenagers to run rampant (usually under the influence of alcohol) in costumes and scare small children was quite frankly, an idiot.

Which is why I usually spend Halloween night sitting in the dark room, pretending that I'm not there and waiting for midnight.

Apparently I'm weird.

Or a prime victim for a serial axe murderer.

But hey, you are who you are, right?

Frankly I hated Halloween. Actually it was on my list of most hated holidays, right under Valentine's Day and Christmas.

Mom keeps on trying to drag me to a therapist.

I wonder why.

* * *

"You are going," Nolan said firmly while I rolled my eyes and pretended to sweep.

"I haven't gone _trick or treating _since I was six," I replied in an irritated tone "Besides, don't people hate it whenever teenagers come?"

"Nah," Nolan waved a hand "Everybody likes me on Aunt Erin's street."

"You mean Erin Strauss?" I stared at him "You go trick or treating in _Caledonia Heights_?"

Caledonia Heights was this majorly expensive, exclusive suburb with million dollar houses and stuff. I've driven by once and I'm pretty sure that mouth is still hanging open.

Nolan shrugged "They think it's cute. Plus Erin has bragged to all of her neighbours about my scholarship, and now half of them are trying to play matchmaker and get me to go out with their teenage daughters."

"So if I show up with you, they'll mob me. Fantastic." I crossed my arms "What do you expect me to dress up as anyways, if I go, which I won't."

Nolan's wicked grin grew wider.

"We could do a group thing. You know, Romeo and Juliet!"

There was no way in freaking _hell _that I would ever go trick or treating as Juliet. Not with a gun to my head in a life raft about to go over Niagara Falls. No way.

Also because we weren't a friggin COUPLE!

"Napoleon and Josephine?"

"You are so delusional right now it would hilarious if I wasn't questioning your mental state."

"I have it! Pocahontas and John Smith!"

"One more word Nolan, and I swear I will hurt you."

"Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe?"

That was when I took my broom and hit him over the head with it. And left as he laughed and gasped in pain at the same time.

* * *

I was going trick or treating.

Fuck.

Why the heck was I, of all people going trick or treating in Caledonia Heights, of all places? Not to mention wearing a lab coat and awful lab goggles dressed up as (wait for it)…

Marie Currie.

And guess who was Pierre?

Oh yes, we also carpooled with little red riding hood (Chastity), a guy who was a cross between a hairy llama and couch cushion and yes, even a Romeo and Juliet. Wearing togas with ivy in their hair.

It was 3 degrees outside.

Yah.

And for the record, I did not consent to this. At all. Chasity and Nolan physically kidnapped me while my parents doubled over laughing. They dragged me out the front door into Nolan's car.

I swear this was illegal. Actually, I'm quite certain it is.

Both mom and my stepfather thought it was 'cute'.

I hated trick or treating.

Especially whenever Romeo and Juliet leave with the llama guy, creating a really awkward, third wheel situation without any of us being coupes. Well, I thought it was awkward, but Nolan and Chasity laughed whenever they saw the strange looks homeowners were giving us while they got candy.

Fine, I'll admit it was sorta fun to dress up.

I still hated it though. Candy and all.

"Why did you bring me here?" I rolled my eyes as we crossed dark backyards. I didn't see why we couldn't go on the road, but according to Nolan this 'was better'.

Aha right. Trespassing. Okay there Nolan.

Whatever.

"Where are we going next?" Chasity demanded, wrapping her cape around her "It's cold."

"This is Erin's back yard I think," Nolan said as we climbed through a thicket of pointy hedges "The patio door should be unlocked. We can warm up inside."

Now is probably a good time to say, just for the record, that it was friggin dark. Like, I couldn't see a foot in front of my hand. It was so overcast that not even the stars were visible. Oh yah, and it was _cold._ Like, I wished I was a polar bear right now kind of temperature.

Another good thing to mention is Nolan has no sense of direction.

Or, outdoor skills at all.

Which is why, as we headed towards the door, we feel directly into an in ground pool. Thankfully empty.

A hard, deep concert pool. One with no shallow end. Just 9 feet, all the way down.

Of course. I mean, who has shallow ends?

Oh, just like, the entire group population of in ground pool owners!

"Umph!" Nolan and I landed on the bottom of the pool awkwardly, both kind of on top of each other.

"You alright?" he asked as pulled myself into a sitting position, wincing. I nodded, rubbing my neck.

"You?" Nolan tried to move his arm and cried out. He inhaled deeply, and I heard the choked sound of a sob.

"Chasity?" I called up "Chas?"

"Oh my God—are you guys okay?" she cried, standing at the ledge of the pool.

"I'm good, but I think Nolan may have broken his arm," I said, as he continued to try and calm down "Can you get some help? Or a ladder? Or a hot air balloon? Whatever works."

"I'll be back," I she vowed, before disappearing into the darkness.

"This is cute," Nolan commented weakly "I get to spend Halloween with you."

"Cut the bologna," I replied crossly, rolling my eyes "Your mom puts you up to being nice to me. She thinks I need a friend."

"Yah?" he responded, cradling his arm "is that really what you believe?"

"Well…yeah," I admitted "What else would it be?"

He then proceeded to put his good arm around me.

My head was whirling.

Maybe I had a concussion.

That sounded reasonable

"That's obviously how it started," Nolan said in a serious voice "I mean, I did think you were a manic depressed psychopath in a tacky blue apron. At first I mean. But later on…once I got to know you…I saw through that."

Let's recap.

Nolan was confessing to liking me while we sat in the bottom of an empty swimming pool, him with a broken arm, on Halloween night, our savior being a seventeen year old wearing a red cape and pigtails, while we dressed up like scientists.

I'm not imagining things am I? Good. I thought I was going crazy. Phew. Well, that's a relief.

What was with getting stuck in places with Nolan? Jeez. Closets. Grocery stores. Swimming pools. You name it.

"Quantico." Nolan exclaimed suddenly.

"What?" I responded, completely confused. He sighed loudly.

"You say a city, I say a city that starts with the last letter. C'mon!"

"Isn't this game for children on road trips?" I protested, pausing "Ottawa.

"Atlanta."

"Albuquerque."

"Earlington."

"Frig off."

For the next two hours, we played all those stupid games, including I Spy (It was harder than you would imagine) Simon Says (Ditto with that one) and others that I don't even know that name of. It was surprisingly fun, considering the circumstances.

"Nolan? Ginny?" Chasity's voice echoed down as we played our eight game of verbal hangman 'Are you guys okay?"

"I have a ladder," I heard a voice I recognized. Italian mobster with a hint of 1960's greasers. Rossi.

…

(Feigning a gun to my head. Again. It's becoming quite a common occurrence.)

In five minutes, we were out of the swimming pool and wrapped in blankets by my FBI agent friends. J.J and Garcia were going all mother hen on us while Reid concluded that Nolan just had a bad sprain.

"What took you so long Chasity?" I asked curiously as we huddled by the roaring fire in Rossi's enormous house. Okay, we had the completely wrong house. It just so happened it belonged to Rossi. And we had crashed their Halloween party. Not a big deal.

"I sort of forgot," she admitted, her cheeks red "I knocked on the door and they invited me in, and I sort of…"

"Forgot?" Hotch raised an eyebrow "Are you sure you two are okay?"

We nodded as Emily rushed over with a plate of food for each of us.

Just as we took them, Nolan leant over.

And kissed me.

Much to the amusement of the on looking FBI agents who clapped and cheered while Reid spouted facts about flu season.

I mean, the whole thing was quite strange, except it didn't really matter.

Heck. Maybe Halloween isn't that bad.

Frig that. Of course it is.

**Chapter thirteen! How did everyone like it? Thanks for reviewing, reading and favouriting/following...you guys are amazing!**


	15. Chapter 15

**First of all, i cannot thank the devoted and loyal readers of thisbstory enough! It has over 10,000 views, nearly one hundred reviews, and quite honestly, I'm overwhelmed! Thank you so much everybody! **

Again i dont own anything!

Thank you all so much again!

* * *

For some reason, to the majority of the freaking world beIn

eves that going for coffee is code word for being engaged.

I don't understand why this is.

Coffee.

A hot beverage with a friend.

Not a freaking engagement announcement!

However two people (of the opposite gender) cannot walk into a coffee shop and have a mutual coffee together without being labelled as soon to be married.

I have learned this the hard way.

Especially whenever you are having a mutual drink with a mutual friend who just happens to be guy.

You attract well meaning strangers.

And slightly unhinged, manic aunts who are trying to tempt the universe into causing a crippling disaster at the pinpointed location of our table.

Yah not a great combination for dating...I mean coffee.

Just coffee.

That's right.

* * *

As one may have assumed, Nolan invited me to a local coffee house to get just that. As friends. Not a couple.

Okay, so he paid. But I offered.

This does not mean we are about to tie the knot.

Now, I wasn't exactly sure how Strauss had handled the news that her prize nephew and I were 'together' (which we weren't but people are stupid).

According to Nolan, it went something like this:

Any member of the BAU who was at Rossi's party on Halloween: "Hey Strauss...I mean Agent, guess who your nephew is going out with?'"

Strauss: "Nolan's going out with somebody? Is it that cheerleader that I've been trying to set him up with for the last six months?"

(Awkward silence.)

BAU (probably Rossi): "I don't think so."

BAU (Emily): Unless Ginny has some serious hidden talents."

BAU (J.J) : "And contortionist skills ."

BAU (Reid) : "Did you know...?" (Gets cut off by group)

Strauss: "Who then?"

(Another awkward silence.)

BAU: "Ginny. The grocery store greeter."

Strauss (looking mildly surprised, then shrugging): "It could have been worse, I suppose."

(BAU team looked bewildered at Struass's lack of reaction and watched as she walked towards her office and shut the door. Team huddled by the door and proceeded to listen to her throw a ten minute temper tantrum.)

Yeah.

Next family dinner is going to be awkward.

Anyways, coffee with Nolan. We ordered, he paid, we got our drinks and sat down. No big deal. We talked for a good fifteen minutes, until it came in.

(By it I mean Garcia. She resembled a jewel coloured ...fluffy thing today. I wasn't exactly sure what to consider it as.)

She ran towards us and squealed with delight.

"Oh you two, you look so cute!" She exclaimed, her voice loud "Let me take a picture!" Nolan rolled his eyes while as she fumbled with a cellphone.

"Would you rather a selfie?" She questioned sweetly as the flash went off, like, six times and I blinked in pain.

Nolan coughed loudly, once. She looked slightly abashed.

"Oh my goodness, I have just interrupted the wanderings of young love...continue on my lovies!" She winked once at Nolan before ordering on her coffee and going off on her merry way.

I sighed as Nolan turned bright red and slurped his coffee awkwardly.

"That was a bit strange," I said in a monotone voice "That's the computer tech eh?"

"Yeah," Nolan shifted uncomfortably "Just a coincidence."

* * *

In the next fifteen minutes we had three more FBI agents rush to our table and try to humiliate us beyond description.

Jennifer dressed up like a nun and gave us an unneeded lecture on abstinence.

Reid came and began spouting off random facts about...stuff. Like mono.

Morgan, of all people, gave Nolan a respect talk, and proceeded to hence the point "the best birth control is not doing it at all."

Why was I here?

Like in this universe?

I would happily settle for a small planet somewhere in a far off galaxy.

The strangest part was that they didn't leave. They sat at a table across from us and pretended that they weren't microanalyzing our every move.

"Isn't that creepy? And frankly illegal?" I finally spat out, losing my temper. The four of them(yes Garcia had come back) exchanged shrugs.

"Yeah," Morgan didn't look very shocked by this revelation "In fact, I find it a very disturbing activity."

"Then why are you here?" I nearly shouted. The person at the counter looked up from her cellphone, then seemed to decide against doing anything.

"Well, that's a long story," Jennifer nodded wisely.

"Enlighten us, sister Jareau." I seethed. She laughed, which I found more infuriating.

"Strauss paid us," Reid nodded cheerfully "and bribed that if we prevented you two from going out, we wouldn't have to go on any long distance cases for a few weeks."

"You sold your souls for that?" Nolan stared at them like they had sprouted two heads. Honestly that occurrence would make more sense then the general turn of events that was going on right now.

"Yep." Morgan replied in one word "She really doesn't like you. Sorry Ginny."

"I figured as much," I sighed, defeated "Oi Nolan, can you tell your crazy bat of an aunt to stop?"

"Nope," he shrugged "She has an entire FBI team in the palm of her hand. As displayed here." He pointed to the agents, who waved back cheerfully.

"Coward," I muttered, hunched over my drink. I straightened up to face the agents "what does Strauss do with you guys whenever the big hanchos from Washington come to inspect the Quantico buildings? Does she lock the entire BAU in a closet or something?"

They exchanged a glance.

"Actually no. She just stands in the elevator and says our floor is under renovation. They aren't allowed to step foot in our bullpen."

"Ever. Well, at least until the hamburgers are cleaned out."

"And the pens."

"How about those popper things?"

They started to argue about the random collections of junk that occupied the bullpen while Nolan and I snuck out.

"Do you want to meet up again?" Nolan asked. I smiled.

"I'd like that," I responded, and felt a strange happiness.

* * *

In the end, it was a lot of wasted effort. The next week, Nolan received papers from the court that forced him to go live with his father in Washington state.

A month later, he posted a picture of him kissing some girl and updated his status to "In a relationship with Olivia Daniel." Whoever the heck that was.

I didn't care, honestly. As he had said, I was just some cynical depressed maniac who wore a tacky blue apron and pretended that the world was alright.

Fuck.

**Chapter 14! I hope everybody enjoyed it! Thanks for reading and reviews woukd be apprciated! **

**Okay, just curious, would anybody be interested if i posted some harry potter fanfaction? (Completely unrelated to criminal minds) I tried before, but it didnt really work. **

**Thanks for letting me know! **


	16. Chapter 16

**yay...another chapter! Thank you all who have read, reviewed etc...you guys are amazing! **

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* * *

In my short life, I have spent much of my time ranting about one subject or another. Politics. Classmates. Holidays. Life. Mentally unsound FBI agents.

My very odd social life which doesn't actually exist.

There is one however subject that i have never discussed or questioned. By doing so would open myself up to questions such as "what are you smoking/drinking?"

See, its an injustice!

For some reason, monologuing about insects is not a normal past time.

See? And people think I'm the crazy one.

* * *

"Have you ever even contemplated what the bug evolved from?" I demanded to Chastity, attempting to fix my cash register. Since Nolan had left, I has bumped up from door greeting.

Yay.

My cash register hated me. I'm not even kidding. It seriously did.

Chastity gave me a look that was a mix of pity and annoyance "No."

"But think about what bugs used to be like!" I exclaimed "They used to be as tall as humans during prehistoric times! Imagine running into a six foot tall cockroach!"

"Why the hell would I do something like that?" Chastity looked exasperated "Gin, when did you last sleep?"

Well...

The thing is, I'm an insomniac. Whenever I don't sleep, I get weird. So technically, I had an excuse for most of my social interactions.

So when people say I'm odd, or strange, I am probably in a sleep deprived state, running on coffee only.

As for her question, well, it had been awhile.

Like, you know, three or four days.

I would have thought the bags under my eyes would have been a hint at my current brain status, which could probably be considered to be a caffeine induced coma.

Because I am in a sleep deprived, dehydrated, and very cynical mood, I do strange things.

Like monologue about insects.

"Look at that bug," I pointed to a nearby fly "Its average life span is like, two weeks. It has no purpose in life other then to feed and reproduce before it dies. Thus the cycle continues. It is inevitable!

" And then there are species like spider. Oh yes, the humble spider, our eight legged comrade in arms! Without him feasting upon unwanted insects, our ecosystems would be overrun! Yes, this small bug saves us! We owe our life to spiders!"

Chastity looked frightened. Very, very frightened.

"Arachnophobia is the most common fear in all of the United States!" I shouted, apparently unexpectedly because Chastity jumped about three feet and uttered some very colourful words in my direction. I, being in my strange, sleep deprived state, did not notice.

"Spiders are murdered each and everyday!" I exclaimed "Why do we care about humans getting murdered whenever there are spiders that are innocent victims to violent crime?"

"The legs," Chastity shuddered "Too many legs."

Any person who in any state of mind similar to sanity may at this point say 'Haha, you are right, spiders are gross, don't tell anyone that I just had a minor breakdown, okay?' And all would be forgotten.

Or, on the other hand, at this comment, one may jump up and start chanting "Liberation for Araneae!"

Yeah.

I actually did that.

Believe it or not (I didn't actually...I had to watch the security camera footage to confirm this).

I don't even like spiders. Their eyes are downright frightening.

However, back to the point.

Anyways.

I proceeded to run out of the grocery entire, chanting still, and going solely on adrenaline because my brain was most decidedly not functioning to any degree of sensibility.

I sprinted all the way to the BAU building, which, by the way is, oh, you know, about 3 kilometers away.

While chanting "Liberation for Araneae!"

When i finally arrived, I literally ran into the Morgan guy in the parking lot knocking him into this rugby tackle, which I didn't feel at all because my nerves felt as though they had been coated in wax or something.

"There are serial killers!" I shouted, my face white "Everywhere!"

He believed me.

I suppose, because I had some real knack for attracting killers, that was the reason.

But why the hell would the FBI allow a caffeine hyped up teenager who is suffering a mild mental break into their building?

Just...why?

A building (in my caffeine sleep deprived state) filled with murders.

Morgan led me into the bullpen, all serious and all. Of course I was all serious as well, that was until Reid smashed book on his desk.

And killed a spider, while commenting some random stats.

Oh, I wished he hasn't done that.

"You murders!" I screamed "Freedom for our eight legged friends! How dare you!?"

Now the entire bullpen was looking at me like I had sprouted wings or something.

"Liberation for Araneae!" I yelled again, then feeling all Mel Gibson "Freedom!"

Strauss poked her head out of her office, then didn't say anything.

Hotch face palmed, giving the agents a look that probably meant "Where the hell did this crazy chick come from? And why is she in my bullpen?"

Reid spouted off more random crap (which nobody paid attention to).

Morgan raised his eyebrows, then looked up towards the ceiling, either a) praying to any religious affiliation at all or b) hoping that a ladder would magically appear and give him the chance to escape.

And then there was Rossi and Garcia.

Who both, at the word of 'spider' went completely berserk.

Full blown panic attacks.

Running around in circles. Rossi begin slapping surfaces at random, exclaiming 'Where!? Where!?' In his Italian accent, over and over again, fending off those invisible spiders which were, apparently attacking him.

Go Rossi.

Or Garcia, who stood on a desk, shrieking. She apparently forgot that spiders can climb. This may put a major flaw in her plan of hiding on a desk.

This did not improve whenever Reid shouted "Spider!" And smashed a book against his desk. Everyone waited with baited breath until Reid said in a panicked tone "I missed."

The whole bullpen erupted into full blown chaos.

Emily, Morgan, JJ and Reid joined some sort of bucket/jar brigade, sprinting around the bullpen with coffee mugs and paper cups, chasing the scuttling araneae, who was probably frightened our of his mind. Then there was me, who was screaming "Liberation! Freedom!" Rossi and Garcia who were just screaming.

Hotch stood in his office way, sighing and holding his cellphone camera to record the whole thing. He was beginning to wonder why he hasn't taken the Terrorist Attacks agent position whenever it came available. Like, fifteen years ago.

Thankfully, the spider scuttled right by Hotch, who calmly picked it up and carried it towards me.

"Would you like to bring it outside?" He asked, the small black spider clasped in his hands.

I shuddered, as all of those eight legs squirmed

"No way. I hate spiders."

* * *

Words of the wise:

Never let a sleep deprived teenager running on coffee into a federal building while chanting 'liberation for atraneae' especially whenever it takes agents several days of stress leave to recover (ex. Rossi and Garcia) from a runaway spider in the bullpen.


End file.
